


Never Tear Us Apart

by petyll



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Bathtubs, Brainwashing, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Chronic Pain, Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Hallucinations, Hannibal Rising References, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lots of conversation, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, No Clarice! We don't need her or her sheep, Original Character(s), Pining, Plothole Fill, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Drama, Revenge, Sharing a Bed, Silence of the Lambs References, Slow Build, Slow Burn, This sounded better in my head, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyll/pseuds/petyll
Summary: (It's supposed to be) 4th seasonLove is a serious mental illness. It will destroy you, and you will let it. Doesn't it sound lovely beyond belief?Hell is a nice, warm place for kindred spirits.---------------------This fic is made from my perspective of the characters and the story in general. I have relied on books to develop my idea.I'm a fan of psychological stories, so that's the way it's going to be. This is a relationship of a person with Asperger and hyper empathy disorder with a psychopath, so it won't be a smooth ride.I hope and you give it a chance. Although keep in mind that this is my first fic, so you have been warned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

The air was sharp and cold. It was a pretty gloomy night in late November. However, that night had a horrible yet beautiful meaning. Death has never been so meaningful in a platonic way. It became the best way to display the feelings that had burned him for several years. The strong smell of blood penetrated his widened nostrils. Hannibal tilted his head back with a thin smile showing how pleased he was. It had been quite some time since he had felt the sensation of fulfillment. He went through the hall with almost ceremony, as if it were a tribute to his work of art. The body lay next to the piano. Beheaded and disemboweled, told in detail how terrible his last minutes of life must have been. Bloodstains all over the place traced the path that death had followed.

It was almost midnight, and now everything was plainly visible. The clouded sky was now clear. The only remnant of the storm was the pleasant petrichor scent that slid through the ajar door accompanied by an ice breeze. Hannibal sat on the piano bench and ran the back of his hand over the keys stained with a touch of bright crimson. He sighed heavily, then peered around the hall like he was, suddenly, rediscovering the stunning place full of furniture and ornaments worthy of a museum. Arbitrarily Hannibal played some keys, felt that it had been years since he heard the beautiful sound of his Steinway & Sons. He was pining for something that just happened the day before and felt pathetic for that.

The perfect silence extinguished by sirens and blue and red lights. Hannibal walked out of the hall with his victim's head in his hands. Murmurs and footsteps could be heard all around the perimeter of the property. It looked like Jack's army was ready to capture him. He chuckled at the very idea. He wished to gloat further but had to get ready to receive his guests.

Jack Crawford broke into the residence with a gun in his hand. Horrified, he witnessed the scene. No matter how many crime scenes he had witnessed, this time he could feel the horror emanating from every corner of the place.

“Hannibal, we have you surrounded!” his yelling filled the void of the huge hall.

Steps from the second floor froze the blood of the experienced agent. The perpetrator of this horrific act stopped in the corridor, holding his victim's head firmly. He remained wrapped in the veil of darkness, a place that offered him comfort. 

“You intend to capture me. But how to capture that which is out of your understanding, that which exceeds your archaic minds. We live in a world plagued with hypocrites, people who hide their weaknesses under a mantle called sanity or justice, mere excuses to feel good about themselves” his words were fueled with contempt.

“Come out with your hands up!” He wielded his weapon decisively.

Hannibal walked to the railing. Every step echoed in the mansion.

“Insane is the term with which you try to subdue the elevated ones. You hunt us to preserve your species, averting evolution. The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.” The preponderance of his voice resounded with vigor.

The moonlight irradiated the killer's silhouette in platinum tones. His oxford gray cardigan was covered in blood, creating the illusion of huge holes all over his torso. With no tact or emotion, he tore the cheek off of the head with his teeth, in a dreadful way. Jack looked at him terrified. The sound of the muscle being torn apart, made him feel an indescribable chill. To keep on his feet, he needed all of his courage. Hannibal slowly chewed his mouthful and then loudly swallowed the piece of flesh. When he finished, in a disdainful way, he threw the disfigured head near Crawford.

Hannibal placed both hands on the railing, with self-assurance.

“You dare to call me an abomination, a monster. Just because the natural selection has favored me, and also due to my innate ability to make sublime the ordinary. To exalt in the form of art is my dogma.” A shameless smile illuminated his face. He extended both arms with ecstasy, inhaled deeply and uttered, with a terrifying tone. “I am your Antichrist.”

* * *

Four years earlier, a few months before the death of the Great Red Dragon. An abominable murder scourged the lives of the inhabitants of Bridesburg, Philadelphia. On the riverside of the Delaware River, residents found a dismembered body of a woman. Reporters began to cram the area, including Freddie Lounds. The news leaked, and everyone wanted to be part of the recent murder case.

Even though it was afternoon, the day was overcast. It was very dark. The weather seemed to be mourning the recent event, the waves breaking by the strong wind lose sound at the dreadful scene. People had to hold their noses due to the smell of rot mixed with the salty smell of the sea, which created something indescribable in the stomachs of the most sensitive.

“Jack.” 

It was Alana. She was forcing her way between reporters and neighbors blocking the way. She looked at the scene with a certain bitterness, had not been part of an investigation in a long time, and thought she would never be part of one again.

“You're just in time.” 

The man led her to where the woman's mutilated body lay. The killer just left her legs and part of the pelvis. The remains of flesh attached to the pelvis suggested that the upper part of the body had been severed with brute force. Part of the spine stood out horribly, creating the perfect image of human barbarism.

After analyzing in detail, she returned to Jack.

“What a way to kill,” she rubbed her hands, trying to warm herself. The winter was just around the corner.

“Welcome to the real world,” a grieving smile accompanied the phrase. 

“By the way, is it okay for you to be doing fieldwork? Only a couple of weeks ago you were discharged. Donating a kidney is not a joke. You should pay more attention to your health.”

“I'm fine. Who doesn't seem to recover is Will,” a lump in his throat left him speechless.

“I can't believe he's still in a coma. Although, thanks to you, he's still breathing.” Alana wanted to help him. However, only could wait like everyone else. 

It had been three months since the incident, but the tension surrounding the subject was still there. No negative opinions were made due to the results concerning the red dragon, yet Hannibal was a different topic. Everyone had their eyes on Will. They knew if something would drag Hannibal back to the town, it was him. And they decided to use Will as bait to capture him.

“According to specialists, his brain is properly functioning, there's no damage”—he clicked his tongue—“it's as if he didn't want to wake up.”

“Still nothing about Hannibal?” The mere mention of his name gave her a cold and unbearable feeling.

“We have nothing.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a local policeman who wanted to talk to Crawford. It didn't seem to be anything serious, just routine procedures.

Alana stretched both arms, a lump in her neck was causing her some discomfort. With Hannibal on the run, all his aches were inevitable. She knew her life was at stake. Regardless of whether she dies by his hand or not, what worries her was her family. She had to do everything she could to stop him.

“Welcome to the team, Dr. Bloom,” a faint smile was the way Miriam welcomed the doctor. 

The presence of that woman puzzled her. After a few condescending words, Miriam left and approached the victim's body. Alana watched closely every one of her actions and realized that something was out of place. The confidence she reflected was not natural for someone who had faced the trauma of kidnapping.

Jack walked towards Alana while reading some files. 

“Miriam Lass is part of your team, that's a surprise,” she pronounced in a sarcastic tone.

“She is replacing Will. Her imagination and senses aren’t so precise, but her work is excellent. Excellent.” They looked at the woman.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” she didn't understand what led him to that decision. But he seemed not to have learned from his past mistakes.

“That's why you're here, you tell me.” After saying that, he left.

Alana tried to meditate on the situation, but a strange feeling interrupted her. She turned as fast as she could, only to realize that Miriam was looking at her intensely. Something was happening. Something they would regret. That's what her senses told her.

All night long, she was digging into the issue. Alana didn't understand why it was hunting her like a bad dream. She couldn't sleep because of how absorbed she was. Just after dawn, she took her cell phone and called Jack to make an appointment. A few hours later, Dr. Bloom arrived at Quantico. It had been a while since she had set foot in there that she perceived herself as an outsider. Such a feeling wasn’t the greatest for a person who had been sentenced to death.

“Alana, please take a seat,” while reading some files, Jack greeted her.

After the half-winning against Dolarhyde, Crawford got his office back. The bureau still seemed to need a special team to deal with the psychopaths, and he was the best at catching them. It might be good news, but it wasn't at all. Now he had to submit detailed reports of their performance to Kade Purnell, the new head of the team.

“So, what did you want to tell me about Miriam? Yesterday you left me intrigued,” she crossed her legs, at the same time she fixed her gaze on Jack.

The man meditated before bringing up the subject with Alana. It didn't matter how much he doubted Lass. He still, deep down, wanted to believe his assumptions about her were all wrong. He left the files on the desk and sat on his big chair, followed by a slight sigh he started to speak. 

“A month ago, while I was still in the care unit, Miriam came to visit me.” 

_Within a couple of days of the surgery, Jack was still under medical observation. Visits started to come, alongside some terrible news, Will hadn't woke from the coma._ _And out of nowhere, Miriam Lass showed up._

“_Am I interrupting?” she said in a soft tone._

_When Jack heard her voice, he put the files down and looked at the young woman with relief. _“_No, of course not, come in. Come in.” He put the work aside to attend her._

_The woman smiled shyly and, with some reserve, made her way into the room. Their small talk had a lot of formality and several questions about his health._

“_Now that you are in good health…”_—_she bit her upper lip a little, then anxiously intertwined her fingers_—_ “I'd like to request something from you.” As if some switch had been pressed, the glow of her eyes vanished. She was a completely different person._

_Jack startled at her change, however, he managed to maintain a calm attitude to avoid suspicions. “Tell me, I hear you,” he answered firmly, without taking his eyes off her._

“_I want to be part of your team… the new Special Agent.” Her words felt hollow and lifeless._

Dr. Bloom analyzed every detail, not just what Jack shared, but also what she witnessed the night before. A family essence emanated from all of it.

“Her voice sounded like a recording. Days later after that, I saw her reading Will's medical file.” He waited for Alana to solve his doubts. Although, he knew exactly what her response would be.

“A recording waiting for the right time to play, and Will's coma activated it”—frown her eyebrows—“She is Hannibal's spy.” Her words were forceful.

Jack felt terrible. He knew that Miriam was being controlled by Hannibal, and it was, for the most part, his fault for dragging her to the case. Once more he ruined her life.

“I suspected it, that's why I need your help.”

At that moment, they both realized how trapped they were by that man.

* * *

Three years passed and nothing had changed, the same problems persisted for Jack's team. It seemed like there was no way to solve them. But one afternoon, finally some good news came to their ears. Will had woken up from the coma. 

Although for Will, his awakening wasn't so blissful.

The beep of the vital sign monitor flooded his ears. The pain in his eyes was unbearable as if it was the first time he had opened them in his life. Blinking several times was necessary to be able to see better, and even when he could see everything clearly, he didn't recognize the objects that surrounded him. He couldn't even tell if he was lying or sitting or in what position. His mind was all over the place.

Will tried to move when he was slightly more conscious, but his limbs, both lower and upper, didn't respond. His breathing got heavier, he was scared. It was frightening, horrible, not being able to move any part of his own body. Abruptly, his heart rate increased. In just mere seconds, an alarm began to sound. Without any delay, a nurse arrived to attend the emergency.

Outside the room was Molly. When she heard that Will had woken up, she got ready to left the hospital, in her way out, she ran into Jack. She didn't feel like chatting at that moment, but she didn't want to be rude to the person who had helped her and her son.

They both went to the cafeteria to talk. 

“Have you seen him?” he sips his coffee with care.

“No. I don’t want him to know I was nursing him for all these years,” her coarse voice made clear the lump in her throat. 

“So, you’re leaving?”

“Yes. It’s best for us and Will.” She took off her wedding ring and put it on the table. Her eyes were so watery that she rubbed at them with the backs of her hands, leaning back on the chair.

“You're just going to disappear from his life?” he asked, as he interlocked his fingers and fixed his gaze on her. 

“He never loved me as I did. I don't blame him because I knew it from the beginning. I just think it's time to leave,” she said bitterly. But deep down she knew there was no need to say it, as it was something everyone was aware of.

“I understand.”

“Just one more thing. When he recovers, please give him this,” she handed the ring to Jack.

* * *

The cliff fall left Will in a deplorable state of health. He had several surgeries, despite that, no treatment helped his damaged kidneys, a donation was urgent. Jack turned out to be compatible and, without hesitation, donated the kidney. The bones of his limbs were the most affected. His left arm lost more than 50% of his mobility, from his right hand he lost 20%. However, the most affected was the left leg, which was extremely destroyed. The method of bone lengthening was the only alternative since the tibia had practically disappeared. External fixation never looked so horrible in Will's eyes.

Two months have passed since he opened his eyes. There were no significant changes, but his memory had partially returned. Thanks to the latter, he was fully aware of four terrible facts.

First: his mental health had many ups and downs. Sometimes, he couldn't control his emotions. And to make things worse, his memory wasn't restored completely.

Second: weighing a little more than 50 kg left him with almost non-existent mobility, zero muscles, equal to being a caterpillar in his chrysalis. He had never looked so bad, even when he was a child and had too many deprivations.

Third: partially losing the mobility of three limbs left him at a point where he thought that coma or death were more dignified options.

Fourth: the fact that affected him most deeply was Hannibal. He knew the interrogation about what had happened on that fateful night would soon begin. It didn't bother him not to be able to answer, because his memories of that incident were shattered. What made him feel bad was not knowing about him.

After three months of treatment Will slowly recovered, but his leg showed no improvement whatsoever. Although it wasn't all bad news, after almost half a year of just seeing the medical staff, he finally had his first visitor.

“Jack,” he pronounced in a soft voice while focusing his eyes on him. His vision was slightly affected. Intense concentration became his best friend.

“I see you are recovering.” He could tell lies, but his eyes made clear his true thoughts. Will smiled at him so weakly that it was difficult to notice.

Both men were tense, the mood suddenly was so heavy that breathing was painful. Will cleared his throat, strangely he felt ashamed, maybe for how pathetic he looked. He was like a little slug struggling for his life. 

“Well…” Jack also cleared his throat before continuing.

Will felt anguish. Finally, the most feared conversation began. Jack made a series of comments about the incident and then asked what happened. His eagerness to remember led him to lose himself in the endless darkness of that tempestuous sea.

“Do you remember what happened on the cliff?” He got no answer. Jack had to call Will several times until he managed to regain consciousness.

“I'm sorry, it's just...” Before he could say anything else, the interrogation continued.

“The cliff, remember?” He needed accurate information, and the only person who could help him suffered from amnesia. Crawford wanted to believe in him, but there was still doubt, his memory loss could only be a cover to protect Hannibal.

“The last thing I remembered is Dolarhyde stabbing me in the face. Then we went out…”—he rubbed his cheek insistently—“I stabbed him in the leg with the same knife, and he attacked me in the chest. After that, I don't remember anything, only the darkness.” His face showed how dismayed he was.

“I guess asking about Hannibal is out of the question.” Jack left the room after the unsuccessful interrogation.

After that unkind visit. Will decided not to see anyone else and just focus on his recovery. Part of him wanted to ask about Molly but was not willing to face the harsh reality yet. In the blink of an eye, another half a year passed and Will finally left the FBI medical center. His health was no longer deplorable, so he was able to return home. Rehabilitation made no difference due to his mental problems, and a wheelchair became his best alternative. Sometimes he wished for his mind to be as stiff as his leg.

The dogs kept him company, as always, but the pack shrunk drastically. _The longevity of dogs is unfair,_ Will thought as he looked at his companions. The idea of wandering around to adopt more strays was very tempting. Anyway, it was impossible in his current state, even going to the bathroom was a feat. His house not only gave him a sense of comfort but also brought back some bad memories. Especially when he saw his desk with some hooks and leftover materials. It was in those moments when he wished that his memory had been completely erased and not just some fragments.

The mornings were uncomfortable. Jack took the liberty of hiring an Assistance Service, now he was surrounded by strangers at his own home. Although he could not refuse help in the mornings, he managed to prevent someone from watching him all day. Aside from that, the nights were the only thing that remained the same. Only him, his dogs, and the sporadic visit of Hobbs, and now also of Dolarhyde, the coma decided to leave him a very uncomfortable sequel.

Debbie, one of the responsible for his rehabilitation, was young and very attractive. When he saw her for the first time, he thought it was a bad joke, but she turned out to be a real nurse. Also, the woman acted against the ethics of her profession, because of her overconfidence. Her haughty attitude was too much for Will's patience. The mere sight of the girl crossing the threshold of the door caused him discomfort in his stomach. Also, her invasive questions, which exposed her as an avid reader of the Tattlecrime, were uncomfortable. At the end of each session, he couldn't help but vomit.

Helena, the other nurse, was a very cautious woman with her words. That didn't mean she wasn't unscrupulous just like Debbie. The only one doing the job to the letter was Bernard. A man of menacing appearance. Being 2 meters in height and weighing 130 kilos didn't help him with his menacing appearance. Also, by his own decision, he was in charge of the care and cleaning of the dogs.

The morning came with the horrible news that it was therapy day, another insufferable Wednesday, and Debbie was late as usual. With total cynicism, she arrived with a big smirk on her face. Helena had retired hours ago, and Bernard was walking the dogs. At that time, the only ones in the house were Will and the nurse of his nightmares.

“I'm going to start.” The woman began with the therapy. While her attitude was lousy, her talent as a nurse was not questionable. 

An atrocious silence created an unbearable atmosphere. On top of that, Debbie decided to launch one of her nonsense questions at the worst possible time. 

“Are you still in touch with Hannibal? Obviously, you will deny it, but everyone knows what "kind" of relationship you used to have.” The nurse babbled without paying attention to her words.

_Whenever feasible, one should eat the rude_. That one phrase filled his mind. A sinister grin left the girl in complete silence. Hannibal's unorthodox methods achieved immediate results, although he didn't consider eating her.

After a long session, she lit a cigarette as soon as she set a foot outside the house. But she ended up throwing it away because Bernard startled her.

“Stupid!” she grumbled.

“You should be polite to Mr. Graham.” In his eyes, the woman was small, not because of her stature, but because of her morals.

She picked up the cigarette and threw it on the man's face. “Freak.” Debbie made her way to her car.

“Those who are not polite are the true freaks.” He clenched his fists as the girl walked away from him.

After a long wait, Sunday, the great day, had finally arrived. It meant two things: no therapy and no nurse who meticulously looked at every scar on his body with total cynicism. Only Bernard came to fill the refrigerator with several pre-cooked meals.

“Good morning, Mr. Graham,” his voice, like his appearance, was intimidating. Despite that, his smile expressed sincere kindness.

Will only nodded, couldn't help but be sullen. Opening himself to new people was a delicate subject once more. Building forts, his old survival technique, was useful again. Right at that moment, his stomach felt the exact same too, upset. 

It was already the afternoon and no intruders were in his home, somewhat he felt relieved. Hours passed and the dogs seemed fed up with confinement. After considering the pros and cons, Will decided to go out and get some air. He was ready to enjoy the summer landscape, after being victorious in the fierce encounter he fought with his pants.

“Will!” Alana's voice sounds loudly in the vicinity. “It's been a long time,” she said while patting him on the back.

The man smiled at her affectionately. “I know. I still cannot believe I was in a coma, for me, it was like a night's sleep.” A long sigh helped him to vent.

“It's normal. Coma is different in each person. Now, just concentrate on your recovery.” Will offered her a nearby chair. It seemed like the nurses were using them to get away from him and his bad mood.

It was as if time had not passed. With her by his side, speaking as in the old days. It felt like those ten years hadn't really happened, and Hannibal hadn’t existed in his life.

“Alana, I'm still in the wheelchair because of my mental problems?” His words carried a great deal of weight. He knew that his mind was divided, the one before the fall and the present one. However, he was not sure which part he wished to recover and which to erase.

“That's right. You need psychiatric therapy to get on your feet, both ways.” She wanted to help him, but she couldn't do anything if he didn't ask for help.

He looked down in sadness. “Maybe for those problems, I'm now divorced.”

“I heard about your wife, I'm so sorry, Will.” The words were trapped in her throat, and she knew that nothing she could say would ease his pain. 

Will only nodded. He wondered if she had read his thoughts and felt sorry for him. Somehow he felt ashamed of his current condition, mental as well as physical.

“Freddie Lounds made sure to tell her about my 'relationship' with Hannibal, and how always she’d be in danger because he would consider her as his rival, bullshit”—he raised his left hand. He was still wearing his wedding ring, and now on his pinky, he had Molly's—“I guess she's right, being by my side is dangerous ... even for me.” He sighed as he looked wistfully at the rings.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. The tension was building up so quickly, she only said the first thing that came to her mind. “So, how does it feel to have part of Jack inside of you?” Both of them laughed at the figurative idea of the question.

Still laughing he answered. “It feels quite nice. I’m peeing the double, I think I appreciate the big amount of pee.” The mood changes drastically after that. “Now tell me, why did you come back?”

Alana took his hands. “For several reasons… mostly you.” His eyes only reflected concern.

“Me?” He couldn't understand her words.

Without answering the question she just smiled at him. “I’m part of Jack’s team, the new assessor. I came back a little after… that”—she released his hands. Her facial expression changed dramatically—“I've been living at Hannibal’s house.”

The mere mention of his name shook him. “In his house? Why?” He couldn't understand why she would do something like that when the man had promised to kill her.

“The best hiding place is in plain sight.” She smiled in grief. 

They both knew it was impossible to escape from Hannibal, and it didn't matter where you were, because he could find you whenever he wished. After a brief conversation, Alana, accompanied by two bodyguards, left in a luxury car. 

Will stayed on the porch watching the car leave. He petted his dogs as he tried to push Hannibal's image away from his mind. No matter how much he treated him, a feeling of sadness invaded him. And without realizing it, a tear ran down his cheek. Sometimes he felt that another person inhabited his body because he couldn't understand his actions completely.

Will went to sleep, he was a little exhausted even though it had been a slow day. But that night, like many others, came with another nightmare. His mind was being consumed by the inevitability of his own choices. Before him, a dark hallway, an incessant drip and thousands of terrifying whispers. His survival instinct made him react. He just walked away and many hands dragged him back to that hallway.

The fear wasn't an impediment for him to fight back, although something paralyzed him. His inner voice was above all the others, it had an undeniable magnetism, emanated warmth but it didn’t bring comfort, it was the opposite. Even though that voice didn’t belong to him, it spoke to him. _Think of me. Think of me, Will. Don’t worry about me. _

His eyes suddenly opened. He wasn't sure if that was part of a dream or if his mind was playing tricks on him. He sat slowly on the bed. His agitated breathing and sweating were uncomfortable, but they didn't compare to the pain in his leg. It was odd how his leg always hurt when he thought of Hannibal.

At that time, in the distance, a strange sinister figure was watching Will's house. The inevitable was about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)  
I’m learning English on my own, and I thought this would be a great way of practicing. I apologize for the awful grammar and everything else.  
I hope you were able to enjoy it despite the mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

The death of the Great Red Dragon quickly became news. The most infamous murderer of the time died at the hands of an FBI special team. Jack Crawford made sure that any link between Will and the case vanished. However, the disappearance of Hannibal Lecter impacted them all at a high level. Thanks to the early intervention of the Tattlecrime, it was claimed that former FBI Special Agent Will Graham was the intellectual author of the escape. Besides, it mentioned, "the interesting relationship" they had had in previous years.

The dawn was rising. On the horizon could be seen the first beams of the sun, a beautiful golden color rising from the cliff, making the pools of blood shone almost white. Now, where Dolarhyde's body lay, there was only a chalk outline. The crime scene was crowded by dozens of officers and reporters, but the only one who looked affected was Jack, who watched the place bewildered.

“Will Graham on a second honeymoon with Dr. Hannibal Lecter. What international "meat" would be their main ingredient?” To Crawford's ears, Freddie Lounds's voice never sounded more irritating.

“Just walk away. If you don't do it, I'll arrest you.” A movement of his hand was enough for an officer to guide Freddie out of the crime scene.

The woman was enraged by what he said. It seemed he had forgotten how much power she had in the media. “You can chase me out, but my readers will be the ones to decide what happened here!”

The situation started to get complicated. The media were crazy to get the scoop. The police didn't seem to be enough to stop the horde that wanted to break into the crime scene and take pictures or just get whatever they could. When it looked like the situation couldn't get any worse, Kade Purnell showed up.

“Unbelievable, this is a circus! And once again Will Graham is the center of the show!” She was upset and didn't try to hide it. Jack didn’t understand why she was acting like this towards Will. It didn't matter that it had been shown that Hannibal set him up and that he was innocent of all charges. She still carried a grudge against him.

“Will Graham was the one who planned everything. Thanks to him, we have Dolarhyde's head,” he said. His attitude was calm, but he was hiding the anger that simmered within him.

Purnell wasn't willing to give in to Jack's pressures. She was willing to do anything to ensure that her point of view was respected and accepted no matter what. “He took advantage of the chaos to help Lecter escape. All this is just a smokescreen I’ll cancel the search.” Without delay, the woman gave the order. Her sense of justice overwhelmed her.

He was surprised by her statement. “We cannot cancel the search, we found a trail of blood on the cliff that indicates they both fell into the sea. We are still early enough that they could be alive.” He wanted to shout at her. But if he wanted the woman to give in, all he could do was talk some sense into her. But that would never happen and he knew it.

She wasn't interested in hearing Jack's explanations. She had already outlined a plan and was just going to stick to it. “In that case, we must wait and then look for the bodies. Their deaths are more significant. Our top priority now is to give a press conference to avoid further damage.” It was evident that for her, the image of the bureau came first.

Purnell's procedures left him without options. Jack was forced to act on his own. He sent a message to Alana, asking for help to continue the search. No one else had the money or the influence to do something of that magnitude. A few minutes later, the sound of his cell phone broke the silence. 

“Jack, I just sent help. They will find them.” The situation exalted her, but deep down, she knew that Hannibal would find a way to escape.

“Thank you, Alana. Although, I don't know what to expect with the search.” He lowered his arm while holding the cell phone.

Jack's mind went blank. Everything lost its color and sound; it was surreal. All he could hear was the beating of his heart. That sound increased in speed and frequency until it became a horrible ringing in his ears. A river of shame swept over him. It was not the first time he felt so helpless before Hannibal. It seemed that after all, he was not a worthy rival.

“Jack… Jack…” 

Zeller's voice made him react. Jack cleared his throat and pulled himself together. 

“What? Did they find them?” He was all over the place.

It was clear that the man was deeply affected by the incident. It was such a notorious fact that, for a moment, Zeller doubted his ability to lead the operation. Yet he knew Jack was the only person in that place who would do the right thing.

“They found Graham, but I don't think he's going to survive. The fall left his body seriously injured. Besides, the lack of oxygen caused hypoxia,” he said concerned.

Jack was stunned. He sent Will to the fauces of the devil, and it seemed he couldn't bring him back. Zeller kept talking about Graham’s condition, but Jack couldn't hear it. He was lost in his thoughts. 

“What about Hannibal?” his words were weak as if he were not himself.

“There is no trace of him. It's as if he had not fallen into the sea”.

Paramedics gave Will first aid. When he was moved on the rescue stretcher, he pronounced weakly, “Hannibal”. No one said anything about it. They just followed the rescue protocol to take him to the FBI medical center. The ambulance was lost in the distance, while Crawford remained immobile.

Away from the cliff, Hannibal reached the shore. The area seemed to be under no surveillance, which made it the perfect place to hide. Although his body condition was deplorable, he managed to crawl to a point where the waves didn't touch the sand. He turned around on his back, immediately his chest began to gasp quickly. He was exhausted. The sunlight covered him completely, so he had to raise his arm to cover his eyes. It was not the only thing that bothered him though, the contact with the sand was not much to his liking. Then, suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted him, but in his condition, he couldn't get up.

“Don’t worry, it’s me,” Miriam said as she crouched down beside him.

* * *

The 11th brutal murder in four years startled Crawford's team.

In an alley near a bar in Baltimore, the decapitated body of a man was found. It became the scene of the new murder of _The Butcher of the East_. Name given by Freddie Lounds and the readers of Tattlecrime. The head and sternum had been severed. Remains of flesh again evidenced the use of brute force. The modus operandi was different in each murder, but its classic signature made it clear that it was the same perpetrator.

The cramped area only allowed Zeller to enter with his team, Alana and Jack waited at the front of the alley. The reduced space only allowed Zeller to enter with his team. Alana and Jack waited at the entrance to the alley. Although it was night, many people gathered in the area, it appeared that again the acts of a psychopath were gaining notoriety among society, turning these monsters into celebrities.

When all the evidence was collected Jack and Alana got in. The place was covered in blood. Even the garbage around was so stained that the paper began to form an unshaped mass.

“It still looks like the work of at least two people.” Alana approached Jack after examining the scene.

“Four years and we have nothing”—he hit his leg—“I'm considering bringing Will back.” Although he himself knew that he should not expose him again, he also knew that his help would save lives.

Alana looked at him upset. “No, please, don't do that.” His words worried her. She knew firsthand that he would sacrifice anything to solve a case.

Police prevented access to the scene by the reporters and neighbors who crowded the area. Freddie Lounds used her experience to avoid the police and reach Crawford to get an interview.

“The Butcher strikes again. Any hint of his true identity?” Her impassive face made clear her experience as a sensationalist journalist.

The reporter's voice irritated him. “Just walk away. I don't have time for this.” He was pissed at not having a clue who the killer might be. Also, he had to deal with the impertinence of that yellow press journalist.

Notwithstanding what Jack said, she continued with the interview. “There's a rumor about Hannibal Lecter being the Butcher or at least that he is working with him. Would you corroborate this assumption?” With a recorder in hand, she waited for an answer. No matter what kind of information she got, it would be news.

The man couldn't believe what he heard. “Hannibal? I can't believe it, this is stupid. Let’s go, Alana.” When the man was about to retire, she threw a bomb.

“What he did in Italy, wasn't it similar? He dedicated his broken heart. Wouldn't it be easier to give him what he wants? Will Graham. A sacrifice will save hundreds.” Her arrogant attitude exceeded the limits, even she knew it, but she was willing to do anything to get the information.

The veins on his face burst with courage. “Don't bring Will to this!” Without thinking, he threw himself on her fiercely.

Alana held him by the arm with all her strength. “Jack!” Her timely intervention saved the situation.

“Your attitude has confirmed my suspicions. Thank you, Agent Crawford.” She walked away triumphant among the crowd.

That night at the FBI Forensics Unit, the team met to gather all the information regarding the case.

“His name was Mark Benson. 23. Unemployed. He had been missing for a month. His wife made the report two weeks ago.” Jack cited the highlights of the file.

“The toxicological test showed he used all kinds of substances. At the time of the murder, he was extremely drugged.” Zeller gave the results to Jack.

Price carefully analyzed the body. “Cause of death, a shot to the heart at a short distance. The head and sternum were removed _post mortem_. Organs intact, as well as the rest of the body.”

Zeller approached Crawford. “He ripped off the head with incredible force. The sternum was an extra.” He showed him the body, the vigor applied in the extraction splintered some bones. 

“There is no trace of the use of any tool in the murders. Must be an enormous person, someone with consolidated experience mutilating,” Price added.

“There is no pattern in the choice of victims, nor is there time consistency between each case. It's very erratic. I still believe at least two people are working as a team.” Alana added after hearing the victim's information. 

“The field research will be extensive. It won't be an easy task.” Jack frowned.

Price looked around with intrigue. “By the way, where is Miriam? Is she no longer part of the team?” He wasn't the only one concerned with the absence of the new special agent.

“She is attending to a personal matter.” His tone made it clear that he did not believe her.

The performed analysis made no difference because of the almost nonexistent evidence. They were in a maze with no way out because the murderer made sure not to leave any incriminating evidence.

The distance between them and the killer increased more and more.

* * *

Once again, Will was alone at home. The nurses got fired, after six months, for selling photographs and confidential information of Graham to Freddie Lounds. Now Tattlecrime readers knew in detail his medical history and how he looked after three years in a coma. Aside from the inconvenience of the personal invasion, he appreciated being alone again.

Even though Jack was distrustful of the whole team, Will intervened for Bernard because he trusted the man. However, Jack decided to place surveillance nearby to avoid any inconvenience. Despite any doubt, Bernard continued his work religiously. Every morning at seven o'clock, the food was inside the refrigerator, not only for Will but also for the dogs. 

“Good morning, Mr. Graham.” Despite being a big and scary man, his voice connoted kindness.

“Good morning.” With a kind gesture, he showed that Bernard’s presence no longer displeased him.

The sun was setting, and after a long workday, Bernard finished bathing the dogs. Will looked at him from the porch, the love for dogs began to shorten the distance between them. But even so, the mere idea of making friends with someone new was not very pleasant for him. 

When Bernard was about to leave, out of nowhere, the dogs barked at something that was hiding under a nearby rock. The man approached stealthily. With one hand, he lifted the rock, and with his free hand, he caught a huge rat. Immediately he dropped the rock and with both hands covered the rat completely. Then, he tore off its head, as if it were nothing. 

“Don't worry, Mr. Graham. Now you and the dogs are safe.” His warm smile contrasted with his hands dripping blood.

It only took a moment, a blink of an eye, for Will to witness Bernard's blood lust. He was in shock, he could feel everything that inhabited the depths of Bernard's mind. It seemed that Jack was right and that man was not trustworthy. Aside from that matter, what really bothered and amused him, though, was his obvious magnetism with psychopaths.

That night he sat down and watched TV. He wanted to distract his mind, which was simpler because now that it was divided into two and with several elements erased, it was slightly easier to control his empathy. But it seemed that Hannibal refused to leave his mind, he was always there, at every moment of the day. After a few minutes of constantly changing channels, he fell asleep on the sofa. A strange sound made him open his eyes. At that moment he realized that he was at Hannibal's table. He looked around him in shock without understanding what was going on. 

“Don’t be so surprised, Will. You are in my mind palace. Or you forget we shared some rooms?”

The sound of his voice embraced him. He could feel a strange warmth covering his entire body. One part of him was happy, but the other was frightened to death. No matter that he could not see him, his mere presence was enough to disturb him.

After a long night full of the usual nightmares, the morning came. It felt like it could be a quiet and pleasant morning, then Jack Crawford came to Will's house at the worst time, as all his visits tended to be. Without giving Will time to refuse, he took him to a renowned orthopedist, Demian Sutton. Although Crawford didn't trust the sudden interest the doctor took in Graham’s health, he knew they should use the opportunity.

The clinic was luxurious. It was a glass skyscraper surrounded by small trees and shrubs, as well as a beautiful fountain in front of the entrance. Obviously, it was an exclusive place for the richest in the city. That's why Will felt out of place, but he didn't want to be rude to Jack so he preferred to keep his comments to himself.

As soon as they came in, a nurse quickly approached them. The young woman bowed, something that seemed strange to both men, and greeted them.

“Welcome to the Archigenes Health Center. Dr. Sutton is on the fourth floor.” With a gesture, she showed them the way to the elevators.

In the elevator, Jack was on the cell phone as soon as they came in, so Will couldn't say anything. This made him anxious because the place was starting to give him a bad feeling and he wanted to vent, even if it was a little bit, but he couldn't and had to swallow everything that bothered him. After leaving the elevator, a man waited for them in the hallway and waved at them with a gesture of familiarity.

“Welcome! I was waiting for you.“ 

The man receiving them was tall, had a medium build, dark curly hair and very light complexion. He was a very attractive man. His presence filled the room, but what caught the attention was his gaze, a pair of big blue eyes that could intimidate anyone.

“It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Dr. Sutton.” Jack dropped the wheelchair handles, to shake hands with him.

“Call me Demian. Dr. Sutton was my father, and believe me I don't want to remember him.” A hint of hate made his discomfort clear. That reaction alerted the two men.

“I understand. Formalities are often uncomfortable.” His investigative mode returned to the scene. The doctor activated several of his alerts, and he wasn't going to miss anything.

After a courtesy smile, Sutton's gaze fixed on Will. His interest in him was such that he didn't mind making it obvious. He stared at him so shamelessly that even Crawford felt uneasy.

“Hello, Will. Can I call you by your first name, or do you prefer to keep it less personal?” His words sounded like Hannibal's. Although this man was his opposite, like day and night, Demian being the night.

“Nice to meet you.” He said with some reserve, avoiding the question. He couldn't answer because something about it made him feel uncomfortable.

After a small exchange of formalities, the old classic questions among other things, a nurse took Will to the Physical Exam Unit, and he couldn't be happier to be taken away from that place. The physical examination was necessary to make the physiotherapeutic diagnosis and to propose what type of rehabilitation the patient would require.

“It will take a while. Let's go to my office to kill some time.” Demian led Jack to his office.

His office was spacious. It was almost white in its entirety, including floor, walls, ceiling, and furniture. There was only the desk, several chairs all over the office and a piece of furniture with white covered books. Even things on the desk were white. But the most outstanding feature was the glass wall. The view from this one was spectacular, almost making you forget the nonsense of that color everywhere. The best way to describe it would be as simple and sterile. That was Crawford's feeling when he set foot inside.

As soon as he sat down, without a second thought, Jack questioned the doctor. “What's your interest in Will?”

The doctor smiled surprised. “I also had problems with psychiatrists, so I thought we could understand each other.” 

Sutton's frank facade was indisputable. However, it didn't calm Jack's suspicions. But thanks to the latter, he understood why Sutton was interested. However, he would let Will himself judge whether it was appropriate to follow a therapy with him or not. 

“Whatever your perception of him, you are wrong.” The tone of his voice was threatening.

Sutton was surprised by Jack's confrontation. “I'm not going to hurt him. Rehabilitation is my hobby.” He replied with a somewhat sharp and incisive voice. 

His carefree attitude intrigued Jack. “You are different from what I expected.” He smiled inquisitively.

“I happen to be so common that your psycho radar doesn't pick up my signal.” He stuck out his tongue and made a strange expression. Joking was an essential part of his personality. His attitude was not to everyone's liking, including Crawford’s.

A cell phone rang, ending the awkward situation. “Excuse me”—Jack left to attend the call. It was Alana, she was waiting for him at his office—“Work. Please tell Will a police officer will take him home.”

With a simple handshake, they both put their cards on the table. 

“Good luck catching the bad guys.”

An hour later, Sutton received a call from the Physical Exam Unit. The results were ready and on the way. The doctor was anxious for the arrival of his new patient, also, because he had no idea if everything would be as he had planned. After a while, someone knocked on the door. 

“Come in.” He quickly fixed his tie and hair.

The nurse entered with a stealthy walk. “Excuse me.” She knew the doctor hated noises. She retired after delivering the test results.

Will entered on his own. He glanced around insistently. “Where’s Jack?” he asked without preamble when he noticed the absence of the man.

Without looking at him, Demian replied. ”He received a call and left. Don't worry, a cop will take you home.” He opened the folder carefully. He was always very careful when it came to his work. 

Will nodded and immediately averted his eyes. He didn't want to empathize with anyone. Especially now that his mind was in chaos.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” The doctor looked at him and smiled. 

Will was about to answer the same he said to Hannibal when they first meet, but he stopped. He wasn't going to make the same mistake with another stranger. This time he was going to keep it professional. By not getting an answer, Demian again focused on the results. He was so absorbed that the minutes passed without him noticing. 

“According to the tests, you don't need surgery. Mobility will return with rehabilitation.” He continued immersed in the analysis.

“Am I going to walk again?” He muttered, fearing a negative response.

He closed the folder and placed it on the desk. “A coma causes this type of body ailment, stiffness. To recover one hundred percent, you will need rehabilitation and psychiatric therapy. Part of the problem is mental.” He leaned slowly on the chair and crossed his arms without taking his eyes off Will.

Demian's attitude left him with no choice. He needed his empathy to understand what his goal was. “Why the interest in my rehabilitation? You don't even know who I am.”

The attitude of his patient took him by surprise. He smiled cheekily. “I had some disagreements with a pompous psychiatrist, so I thought about exchanging notes with you.”

Will felt upset, and without noticing he shout at the man. “You did all this for Hannibal Lecter!” He complained and shook his head angrily a couple of times.

“Empathy, the double-edged sword par excellence. I indeed got in touch with you for personal reasons. Before anything, I ask you to listen to me.” He puts his hand on his chest, an old childhood tic.

Will firmly grasped the wheelchair push-rim. “I'm not interested in other people's problems.” Before he could move, the doctor confessed the truth of their encounter.

“I'm looking for Bedelia, and you're the only one who can help me!” He stood exalted. His words carried a heavy burden of anguish.

“Bedelia?” Without believing what he heard, he asked the obvious.

“Four years ago she sent me a farewell letter”—he inhaled and exhaled roughly—“Well, may I tell you my pathetic story?” He sat down again.

“Alright.” He decided to analyze every detail. He had to corroborate if he was telling the truth.

The atmosphere suddenly changed. Demian meditated before telling his story.

“It occurred about twenty years ago, Hannibal Lecter appeared at a social event. A man of apparent nobility, refined and ridiculously intelligent. He used his innumerable qualities to captivate the entire audience. Except for me.” His tic appeared again.

“At that time, Bedelia was my fiancée.” He stood up and walked in front of Will. He leaned on the desk. —“Five years of relationship and eight of friendship went to hell for the _Lecter Effect_"—.

“_Lecter Effect_?” A grimace showed Will's confusion.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Lecter is a happening. He happened in my life and everything went to shit. Just that, he happened.”

“I think I understand.” It was the first time that someone spoke of Hannibal accurately. It was that or his empathy was controlling him again.

“The separation reopened old wounds, and I fell into depression. Like the coward, I used to be. To avoid exposing myself to society as crazy, my friends took me to a novice psychiatrist”—he crossed his arms with some apprehension—“What a surprise it was to find out that the greatest narcissist in the world would be my therapist.”

He watched each of the doctor’s movements meticulously. Demian's words were so deep and vivid when describing his memories that Will started to feel them as his own.

“Why didn't you go with another psychiatrist?” He tried to regain his posture. He could not allow his empathy to drag him deep into the doctor's mind.

Demian crossed the office, took a chair, and placed it next to his patient. He stood behind the chair, as he spoke, with his fingertips hit the back of the chair. “As much as I disliked him, he was the best option.”

Will turned his chair to face the other person. “How long were you under his care?” He crossed his arms. He needed to create a barrier between him and that man. 

Demian sat elegantly. His good manners were unquestionable. “The therapy lasted about a year. Nothing improved, I felt worse and worse”—he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth—“He was doing something to me, but nobody believed me when I said he was driving me crazy. I panicked and escaped.” He shrugged and smiled.

He found it increasingly difficult to control his empathy. He had been a victim of Hannibal's manipulation. The understanding was absolute. However, he had to remain within the professional field and only question what was necessary.

He adjusted his glasses insistently. “Where did you run away to?”

“To the farthest and most beautiful place, Japan. The funny thing is that when I escaped from Lecter, I learned interesting things from his past.” He said it mockingly.

“His past?” That got his attention.

His reaction made Demian smirk. He didn't intend to delve into it, but couldn't resist sharing a little information. “A person who met him a long time ago, before he became a well-known cannibal psychopath, told me interesting things. But, we'll deal with that issue on another occasion, now what matters most is my dear Bedelia.”

Will had never experienced such a level of intrigue before. Hannibal's past interested him too much. At that moment, his leg manifested with excruciating pain. He clenched his jaw tightly to try to relieve his anguish. The price paid for thinking about him was rising.

He swallowed and continued the conversation. “I understand.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Now you understand how deep or significant my past with Dr. Lecter is. You can consider whether it is feasible to help me or not.” His tic appeared so often that it became one more in the conversation. 

“You never heard from Bedelia after moving to Japan?” Forts, he never stopped building them. It was the only way to stay safe within his mind, the only way to avoid being supplanted.

“No, I no longer heard from her, until the day the letter arrived.” A glimpse of sadness overshadowed her gaze.

“Maybe she hides in a remote place like you did.”

“Do you think it is possible to escape from Lecter?”—a chilling laugh came out of the most sinister of his soul—“I thought you were a thinking being, but you are not. You are just an accumulation of emotions, or right now that is what you are.” 

His attitude began to annoy him. “You don't know me.”

“And I don't know if I want to know you. The simple fact that Lecter is interested in you is evidence that your soul is a match to his. Humans are not ready for that yet.” A smirk accompanied his injurious phrase.

“What is your objective?” He looked at him doubtfully.

“Help with your rehabilitation. Believe it or not, my ethic surpasses my cynicism. I also want to know if my dear Bedelia became an _entrée_ or _le plat principal_.”

The conversation came to an end, leaving many questions unsolved.

* * *

In a remote place, an old phonograph played 'I’ve got you under my skin' by Ella Fitzgerald.

On a worn wooden table, several knives of different lengths and shapes rested. Jars, filled with coarse-grained salt, shone with the dim light of the flickering fluorescent lamps that hung from the deteriorated ceiling, matching the eroded walls.

A man's hands, covered by gloves, carefully placed the scalp of a man on the head of a mannequin. Delicately, he ran his hand over the hair, he did it so slowly that it was disturbing. He took a lock of hair and cut it with rusty scissors. The screeching was so loud that the unpleasant sound filled the entire basement, along with the buzzing of the lamp.

When the hair was flush with the skin, a razor finished the job. He removed the scalp of the mannequin head to take it to a flat surface. He cut the skin a little so that it lost its concave shape. He placed the inner part on top, exposing the pieces of meat and fat that were still attached to the skin.

The undecided man ran his hand over the knives, again and again, trying to make up his mind. A thin, long and very sharp knife was the choice. Slowly and precisely, he removed the pieces of meat. After the long process of cleaning the skin, he took it to a bathtub full of water and dipped it. With the help of a semi-hard bristle brush, the cleaning was finished.

Using special tweezers and some nylon thread to extend the skin, he hung it from a thick metal cable that went through the whole place. On that cable hung more cuts of human skin of different shapes and sizes.

* * *

In a house on the outskirts of a town. 'Metamorphosen' impregnated a refined Victorian-style hall with character. The glow of the fireplace and its sporadic sound offered a dark and fascinating aesthetic to a couple of silhouettes that rested on a well-preserved pair of _Bergeré Cabriole_.

A glass of red wine rose gracefully, crowning the scene with a beautiful palette of crimson tones. That hypnotic scene was not the only thing that was provided by the light of the fire, it also illuminated Hannibal's face showing his inherent malice.

“The time has arrived. He will join us soon.” A gesture of superiority clarified what was coming.

Bedelia raised her glass as she looked fearfully at the man in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people!!  
I want to thank everyone who has read it, I really appreciate it ｡^‿^｡  
The title is based on the INXS' song --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyZU4iNRdsM  
I think it fits them <3~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

Darkness around him, devouring every part of his body.

Hollow sounds flooding his ears.

He fell victim to his feebleness and uselessness. But what angered him the most was he couldn't kill him in the end, quite the opposite. And now for saving him from drowning, the dead would be him. He was aware of his body heat slowly fading away, the smell of the sea on an extrasensory level and the gnashing of his teeth, which were clenching harder with fear. 

With the little conscience, he still had left, images of all the events in his life began to appear. If he could have laughed he would have done it, for he never believed that before you died your life appeared before your eyes. Life proved him wrong again. Out of nowhere, he recalled, the first time he traveled in a plane. Yes, it was quite similar. He lost himself, again, in the depths of his mind, forgetting he was immersing himself more and more in that infinite darkness.

_Where did I go to that time?_ His body was numb, all he could do was stay immersed in that abyss, while his mind was in another reality.

_Ah! I went to George Washington University._ The sound of the bubbles coming out of his nose calmed him down, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. The other good thing was that the cold no longer tortured him.

_I should have chosen another career. My destiny would be very different, and I wouldn't be about to die._

“Will.” Hannibal’s voice quickened his pulse. Despite that voice made him recover his senses, his eyes remained tightly closed. His eyelids were so heavy, that opening them was a titanic task.

“Listen carefully. You must open your eyes.” That hypnotic voice filled his whole being. 

In the blink of an eye, a familiar place surrounded him, not only physically, he could sense it with every part of his body. The air that now filled his lungs was recognized by each of his cells. The minimal sounds of the people present, their whispers and even their breath, brought back all those memories he had kept for a long time. Before his disbelief, his eyes began to open slowly.

“At this exact moment, you are in my mind palace. Being precise, in the foyer, the Palermo Cathedral, severe and timeless,” he smiled up at him.

Will wished to see him. He desperately wanted to see the person he was giving his life for. His head turned as fast as his rusty bones allowed, his disconcerted gaze stared at Hannibal’s face impetuously. Despite how overwhelming the situation was, his eyes closed again, no matter how hard his frail body tried to keep them open. However, that gaze made Will feel an overwhelming warmth in his chest. The sensation was so strong that it climbed up to his head. He experienced a strong pressure on his temples, and his eyes seemed to explode from so many accumulated tears.

“Have been years without seeing you, and this foyer is once again the place that reunites us.” 

Will remained seated with his hands on his lap. His mouth was also closed. He wanted to talk to Hannibal, told him everything that hurt him, but his voice could not reach him.

“Only the dead have seen the end of the war, and ours has just commenced.” The man began to distance. Will heard his footsteps echoing throughout the entire Cathedral. He knew if he didn't do something, Hannibal would vanish forever.

Will opened his eyes. To his surprise, his arm was stretched out like he was trying to grab something. A bad dream was again the cause of his insomnia. He sat on the bed, completely sweated. He wiped his face with the collar of his shirt. That dream seemed more like a memory. He could sense it in each of the fibers of his body since Hannibal’s voice was still echoing in his ears.

The next day rehabilitation began. Demian planned a series of exercises and special activities for Will. In a short period, he started to recover the mobility in his arms. Aquatic therapy was the most viable option for treating his leg, as nothing else seemed to help.

“We'll go to the pool for some leg therapy.” Demian gave directions to a nurse to prepare the equipment.

Will was in a panic. He didn't understand why just thinking about water made him feel that way, but he said nothing. He wanted to know if his love for water had transformed into fear. The nurse took him to the locker room and handed him a bathing suit. When he was alone, his breathing stirred at the sound of the splashing. Only with the sound, he could feel the water surrounding his body, pressing him so hard that he had trouble breathing.

Cold sweat began to run down his back, creating a sticky sensation that bothered him, though not as much as his wobbly arms. The wheelchair shook so much that it hit the locker, creating such an annoying banging noise that upset him. Attempting to move to silence the noise, he ended up falling out of the wheelchair.

“Ready?” Sutton entered the locker room, only to see his patient was suffering a panic attack. The doctor rushed to help him. 

Will was sitting on the floor, leaning on a nearby locker. He was covered in sweat and was panting hard. At the same time, his hands were still trembling beyond his control.

“Listen to me. You must calm down.” Demian's voice volume was low.

Will held the doctor's gown tightly. “No… I can't go into the water. If I do, I'm going to die!” His vision clouded as he spoke.

“Will, you have to…” Demian's voice became inaudible. Meanwhile, his peripheral vision gradually narrowed until everything went dark.

Will woke up. Once again he was in that already well-known white and sterile room, it seemed that it was becoming his new habitat. He rubbed his eyes and saw a man by his side. 

“How do you feel?” Asked Sutton, accompanied by his tic.

“I'm not well.” He had this awful sensation as if a truck had run over him.

Lacking tact as always, Demian gave his diagnosis. “The accident caused you water phobia.” 

An involuntary spasm on Will’s face caused something similar to a smile. He couldn't believe he still had aftermaths from the incident. Which translated into his mind as_ your leg's recovery would take longer than we thought._

Despite his pessimism, Will was able to walk on crutches, only after three months of therapy. His leg still felt weak, but he was already able to put some weight on it. His arms, too, now were like new. Dr. Sutton's abilities were undeniable, that's what he thought when he was able to walk his dogs again.

Will was finally in the mood to leave the house. He got dressed, took his crutches, and prepared to take a walk in the woods. Autumn offered a beautiful landscape, and he wanted to enjoy it with his companions.

“Good morning, Mr. Graham.” Bernard greeted him. His kindness was always first class.

“Good morning.” He nodded and went on his way.

“Are you going for a walk?” He asked confused. It was the first time he had seen him move away from the porch.

Will nodded again. He didn't feel like talking. If he wasn't in the mood and forced himself, things might get ugly. The last thing he wanted was to be rude to someone as kind as Bernard.

“Have a nice walk.” He looked Will in awe, was amazed at his strength. 

The walk made him feel like he went back in time to the days he was problem-free. He experienced a peace of mind he was longing since he woke up from the coma. Suddenly a figure he recognized was near him, the black moose. It was staring at him like it used to.

“Long-time no see.” He knew exactly the meaning of its presence.

After a few weeks of walking on crutches, and having regained some mobility in both arms, Will decided to practice shooting again. After a couple of calls, he got the authorization. Thanks to Crawford he had access again. When he got to Quantico, Jack greeted him with a smile. 

“You've recovered so much.” He approached him and patted him gently on the back.

“It's good to walk again, even with crutches.” He smiled reciprocally.

It didn't matter how long ago it was, or what Will told him. Jack still felt guilty about his condition. It was he who had taken him to that monster, so he was as guilty as Hannibal, even if everyone said otherwise.

“Will, I'm worried for you, that's why I asked you to practice.” The tone of his voice changed, his concern was evident.

“Thanks, Jack.” He placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. He was very grateful for all the help he gave him. And he wanted to pay him back somehow, but for the moment he had that on his to-do list.

“You must always be ready to face any danger,” his words were so strong that they resounded loudly in the air.

Will went to the shooting range. He put on his hearing protectors and glasses. He positioned the shooting target, then pressed the button, a soft squeal indicated its advance. He moved up and down both arms to get rid of the stiffness of his shoulders, being careful not to throw the crutches. While doing it, he recalled with nostalgia his first shooting practice in New Orleans.

He got his Sig Sauer P226 ready. This time his grip would be different. He had to adapt to the condition of his body. He lifted the weapon slowly with his right hand and pointed it at the target. Weakness was evident; with his left hand, he wrapped his right wrist to give strength and secure his aim. He adopted the weaver pose, he needed a better grip and this position would provide him with it. He placed his body at the right angle; his right leg went a little backward to serve as a support. Each movement was made with great care because he didn't want to hurt himself during the practice.

He fired his gun, and the bullet extremely missed the target. Will got frustrated because of his body. He couldn't do anything by himself, always depending on someone's help wasn't something to feel proud.

“That's not the position I taught you.” Katz's voice rumbled in his neck before reaching his ears.

Her comment irritated him. Will put the gun down and answered sarcastically. “With this body, I can't do much, in case you haven't noticed...” He kept silent. For a moment he forgot that Beverly Katz was dead.

“He murdered me for defending his cause.” When her voice resonated again, he turned his face. 

There she was, although it was only half of her body. Her organs, bones, muscles, everything was visible. He could even see them pulsing and moving. Pressure in his stomach escalated rapidly as if something was squeezing it. A feeling similar to the first time he saw a body in his forensic classes. The woman's appearance disturbed him; involuntary spasms caused slight movements in his head.

Katz, meanwhile, looked at him with that frankness that characterized her. “What do you intend to defend?”

It took him a few seconds to be able to articulate coherently. “I... I don't know,” his voice trembled. Reality shook him without contemplation.

The night came sooner than usual, lately, it got so dark that not even the street lamps were enough. Will's former nurse, Debbie, came out from a bar. Her erratic walk showed how much alcohol the young woman had consumed. Her car was far from the bar entrance, to get to it, she had to walk quite a lot. It was past midnight, and she was the only one in the street. 

She continued on her way but had to stop because her ankles hurt. The woman held on to a lamppost and took off her high heels. With her left hand, she grabbed them and with her right hand, she carried her petite purse, which swung from side to side hitting her thighs rhythmically.

Suddenly a strange person began to follow her. But she never noticed. As she stood in front of her car, a hand, wearing black gloves, covered her mouth with a red silk handkerchief. The woman tried to scream, but it was useless. In a few seconds, she was unconscious and at the mercy of this mysterious person.

The effects of the drug were wearing off. Debbie opened her eyes, only to realize someone kidnapped her. She was in a basement tied to a chair. Before she could understand the situation, the sound of steps startled her. Her fear was such that she couldn't control the urine. 

“Don't do it, please! No! No!” she screamed in terror as the person approached her holding a small knife.

With his hands covered with surgical gloves, he cut the tendons of the woman's mouth. Also, without mercy, he broke the bones of her jaw. The cracking was such that she could feel the strength of her body fading away. Debbie's appearance was grotesque, her tongue hung between spurts of blood and saliva and tears, almost touching her chest. All that accompanied by guttural and choking noises.

The man shook his hands to remove as much blood as possible. Then he held Debbie's tongue and with the small sharp knife, he cut it slowly. He enjoyed torturing the girl.

Her last minutes were lived in total agony.

Will received the morning awake because he couldn't sleep. He was like those kids who are anxious for a field trip and can't sleep off the excitement, though what he felt was just the opposite. The very idea of having therapy with Alana kept him awake all night. His dark circles were the evidence.

When Bernard arrived and saw the lights off, he used his key to open the door. At that very moment, he saw Will keeping the gun in a nightstand drawer. His entrance was so stealthy that he could pretend he had not entered. He took a deep breath, pretended he saw nothing then he walked into the house again. 

“Sorry, I went in without calling because I thought you wouldn't be home. I give you my most sincere apologies, Mr. Graham.” He bowed in shame. Or that's what he wanted Will to believe.

“Don't worry. I'm just about to leave”—he grabbed his crutches and went straight to the door—“One small thing. Please take the dogs out for a walk, I didn't have time to do it.”

“Of course. I'll take care of them.” He smiled kindly as always.

The sound of a horn indicated that it was time to leave. He patted some of the dogs then left. Outside, Will stopped and turned his head as fast as he could to the house. A strange sensation ran down his back. Something was about to happen. He could feel it in every inch of his body.

Bernard went directly to the kitchen to put the food in the right place. When he finished, he hurried to where the gun was.

“You shouldn't have anything dangerous at home, Mr. Graham.” He held the gun. His expertise in firearms was unquestionable. Before he could do something, someone opened the front door. He had to leave the gun in the drawer.

“I forgot my glasses.” Will not only took his glasses, but he also had the urge to have the gun with him.

Bernard didn’t finish his task. He was utterly pissed off.

For several weeks, Will had been postponing his session with Alana for two main reasons. First, he didn't like to be psychoanalyzed. Second, he was afraid to return to that house. 

The bodyguard led him to the office as if he didn't know the way. Every step resounded in his ears. He could feel the vibration in every part of his skull. After a few seconds, he sniffed Hannibal's essence. It was in the air. The bodyguard looked at him suspiciously, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to absorb all the fragrance.

“I see the therapy is giving results.” Alana greeted him.

“At least I can move more freely now.”

“Will, you must take the next step for your complete rehabilitation. It's time we talked about what happened four years ago. In the place where it all began.”

Alana opened the office door.

At that moment Will saw Hannibal receiving him. It was as if time had not passed. The impeccable suit, the overwhelming presence, and that smile he only showed to him. Everything remained the same.

Will looked at him and clenched his jaw. He had to swallow to undo that uncomfortable lump in his throat. His heart was speeding so fast that he could feel the beating in every part of his body.

“Will.” Hannibal's voice flooded him. An indescribable sensation ran through his body. “Is it good to see me?” Their eyes met, and a familiar tension surrounded them. They didn't need words to express their feelings.

“Is something wrong?” Alana's voice brought him back to reality.

Hannibal's presence faded into the air. All that was left was a dull ache in the leg. It was so uncomfortable that he instinctively calmed the pain by squeezing the crutches tightly.

Again in his office.

Again in his armchair.

Again before his intangible presence.

“I kept the office intact.” It was true that each piece of furniture and ornament continued in place, but without him, it was different.

“I thought I would never go back to this place.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Tell me, what was the first thing that came to your mind?” She carefully examined all his movements and expressions. His psyche always caused her professional curiosity.

He looked at his surroundings carefully. Images of what had happened refused to disappear, and Will was able to see them in detail.

“My past self”—he put his glasses back on—“I still want him back. I need his way of seeing the world, life. I need his practical way of solving problems, but I'm aware he will not return because he shattered my mind and changed me.” All the time he maintained eye contact, the tone of his voice was not affected. He was as honest as he allowed himself.

“You were forced to evolve to face the situation. Our paths are consolidated by our decisions, as we travel them, part of us is left behind. It's the natural selection our minds make. However, your case was different. You were forced to follow a path that didn't belong to you, that's why you long your past self.” She rubbed her chin for a few seconds without taking her eyes off him.

“Because of him, I lost people that were important to me.” The pain his words carried was almost tangible.

“Hannibal will continue to alienate you from the whole world. He wants to play every role in your life.” Will meditated each of her words.” Whatever has inflicted harm on us will be a fundamental part of our healing. Your mind wants to heal, that's why he continues in your thoughts.” The tension was slowly increasing.

“He will never leave my mind because he is more me than myself.” Pain. His leg began to manifest again. He tried to relieve the pain by holding his knee.

At that moment, for just a second, Alana again experienced Hannibal's cold and penetrating gaze coming from Will. An indescribable fear made her stand up.

She inhaled as deeply as she could and sat down again. “Sorry”—she put aside what happened and continued therapy—“Tell me about the cliff. Everything you remember.”

His mind was better. The gaps were decreasing over time.

“That night the sky looked completely dark. However, I remember the scene vividly. It's a little disturbing to remember some details with such a level of clarity and others are so fuzzy that I can't tell if they are memories or my imagination.” He stopped, his mind wasn't reliable enough.

“It's okay if you can't remember everything. Sometimes our subconscious protects itself by hiding certain information.” She didn't want to force him. It was not the time.

“We hunted Dolarhyde, waiting for him inside the house. I don't remember the details, but I know we killed him together. When it was just the two of us, I knew that I had to act according to the plan and kill him too, but I was ecstatic, being by his side felt too well.” His memories overwhelmed him.

“You were aware of your duty and also of yourself. That led you to decide to jump with him, die along with the person who aroused those feelings in you”—she looked with melancholy at his friend—“Are you still in love with Hannibal?” Although she knew what his answer would be, she wanted to hear it from him.

The man hesitated a little before finding the resolution to respond. “Yes, I think I do.” He broke free by admitting his feelings. It was the first time he spoke with such honesty with someone other than him.

“His love is going to destroy you, and you will let it.” Alana was worried. She knew how destructive their relationship had been, and the last thing she wanted was to see Will consumed until his last breath.

“Love is a serious mental illness.” A thin smile and a desolate look ended the session.

Finally, he was at home. The dogs received him effusively. Will took them for a walk, but before left, he remembered Jack's words_. You must always be prepared to face any danger._ He kept the gun on his waist.

After bringing the dogs back to the house, Will stayed on the porch. He sat down in a chair nearby the door and stared at the void. After a while, he took the crutches to stand up, but he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't realize the crutch was in a small puddle. When he leaned his weight on the crutch, he slipped. It was not a spectacular fall, but his hand was hurt. The friction of his skin with the screws on the crutch caused him a bleed.

He got up with great effort. At that time, the blood had covered most of his hand. To prevent blood from staining his clothes, he moved his hand away from his body. In doing so, the moonlight illuminated his hand completely.

“It really does look black in the moonlight.” Without thinking, that phrase came out of his mouth. Even he was surprised. “Am I really in love with him?” He clenched his fist despite the pain.

He wasn't sure enough about his feelings. He thought that what happened that night was the product of adrenaline, not a sudden acceptance of his feelings for Hannibal. But the lack of memory made it impossible for him to know what was true. When Will realized the blood did not stop he decided to go into the house, but the presence of someone changed his plans.

A homeless-looking man stood in front of the porch. 

“Good evening,” he said in a raspy voice.

Though it sounded different, Will could recognize that voice. 

“Frederick.” He looked at him perplexed.

Dr. Chilton's appearance changed a lot. Before the treatment offered by the FBI came to an end, Frederick escaped. His skin didn't heal over, which caused the appearance of bumps throughout his body.

“It is impressive that you can recognize me. I can't do it since a long time ago.” He laughed sarcastically. Then he took a bottle out of his coat and, in a sip, drank it all. Frederick threw the empty bottle angrily when he realized that Will was looking at him the whole time. “Yes, I'm a fucking alcoholic!” After saying that, alcohol ran from the corners of his mouth.

Trying to stay calm, Will questioned his actions. “What are you doing here?”

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “It's not the first time I'm here. That's something your gorilla knows too well.” He tried to take a few steps, but only managed to stumble.

_Bernard knew that Frederick was watching the house, and he said nothing? Will_ refused to believe the man he trusted would have failed him_. Bernard would never do that_. He repeated that over and over in his mind.

“What do you want?” He was not in the mood to tolerate this strange situation. His head was still a mess for the session with Alana.

“A few weeks ago, I received a threatening letter. I didn't take it seriously. An alcoholic like me is used to the hate, but it was so elegant that I almost peed my pants.” He muttered some curses, then pulled a paper from his coat and tore it in rage.

The words stuck in his throat, and his mind was almost blank. All that remained was the image of that man. “Hannibal.” He just babbled without thinking.

Chilton smirked. The connection between those men always made him curious, knowing how far they would go still intrigued him. “That's right. Also, we made a deal. I give him something, and he lets me live in return,” his rough voice connoted evil.

Although, it was obvious Frederick referred to him as the exchange. Will interrogated him to buy some time. “What is it?” He, discreetly, approached his hand to the weapon.

Frederick moved a little closer to the porch. “You. It seems that Dr. Psychopath misses you.” 

“Don't talk nonsense,” he replied in a low tone. When he was upset, the low tone became his partner.

“You owe me because of you I became this”—he pointed at himself with contempt—“It's about time you paid me back.”

“I don't owe you anything.” He got angry. All he wanted was to shoot him in the head, to put an end to that ridiculous situation.

“You turned me into this monster and ruined my life!” he was screaming. His face was so red that it seemed to explode.

Will remained calm. “It was Dolarhyde who did that to you.”

“Please, it was you who set the trap, and we both fell into your net!” Chilton got too close to him. Only a couple of meters separated them.

The closeness made him feel nervous. He held tightly to the grip of the gun. “Go away,” he mumbled.

“If I don't, what will you do? Will you call your bodyguard the gorilla?” he scoffed because he didn't feel threatened by Will.

“I said, go away!” He pulled out the gun and pointed it at his head. His gaze was blank as if he were in a trance.

“Put that gun down!” He got nervous. Since the incident with Miriam, he had a fear of firearms.

“Go away.” He de-cocked it. 

The gun was ready for use, but before Will could put his finger on the trigger, a strange figure appeared behind him and hit him on the head with the grip of a gun. Instantly, the man lay on the ground.

Frederick wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You turned out to be very efficient.” He took a syringe out of his coat and approached to inject the substance into the fainted man.

After an hour or so, sudden movements made Will react. He was in the backseat of a cramped car. His arms and legs were tied tightly. Also, he had a gag in his mouth that had a strange taste_. Why didn't they use a new or at least clean handkerchief? _It was all he thought. In the passenger seat was Chilton holding the crutches. His position made it impossible for Will to see who was driving. Nor could he recognize the person by the voice, since none of them spoke a word all the way.

About another hour passed, and they stopped at a service station. Both got out of the car. Chilton returned without delay after buying the cheapest bottle of rum he could find. He got into the car and set the crutches aside, then turned around and looked at Will.

“We'll be there soon.” He opened the bottle and drank it. The liquor ran from the corners of his mouth.

The driver got into the car. The engine started, and they returned to the road. Will tried to stay focused, but the drug effect was strong. A couple of hours later, the engine turned off. After a long and tortuous journey, they reached their destination. Will realized that it only meant one thing, Hannibal was close. The pain in his leg manifested once again. It was the ache of longing.

Chilton opened the door with great difficulty, then pulled Will out. He was so dizzy from alcohol that nothing was easy to him. The engine car started when they were a few steps away. The crutches lay forgotten on the grass, which covered the entire property. The way Frederick carried him was terrible. With each step, Will felt he would end up lying down on the grass like his crutches.

“Someone is anxious for your arrival,” he scoffed after seeing the mansion door was open.

Will’s heart was beating so fast that it seemed to explode. He didn't know what his reaction would be when he saw Hannibal after all those years. Although obviously, it would be a very dull one, since the effects of drugs were in their first phase. At that time, he didn't own his body, neither his mind to be honest.

After several stumbles, they went into the mansion. Right at the entrance, Chilton lost his balance and the two fell to the floor.

“You like to be in the lowest, don't you, Frederick?” Hannibal looked at him disdainfully, lifting his chin.

Even with his consciousness fading away, after hearing his voice, a strange sensation seized Will's chest. He was facing the floor, could do nothing but listen to what was happening.

Chilton staggered to his feet. “As arrogant as ever.” He took a sip of rum.

“You can retire. I see you have some unfinished business.” With repulsion, he looked at the bottle. He couldn't stand that kind of smell.

“I hope you keep your promise.” After another sip, he wiped his mouth with his damp, stained sleeve. 

“I always keep my promises.” A smirk closed the deal.

Frederick drank all the rum left in the bottle. After finishing, he lifted the bottle for a toast. “Good luck, Special Agent Graham. I hope you will enjoy your stay.” After saying that, he left laughing out loud.

Hannibal approached Will to untie his arms, legs and removed the atrocious gag. Then he gently lifted him. Their faces were at the same height. But Will couldn't see him clearly, the effect of the drugs seemed to increase as time passed, causing blurred vision and dizziness.

Lecter slowly caressed the man's face, and in a soft tone, he said, “Will, remember tonight... for it is the beginning of always.”

Without being able to answer, Will fell unconscious. Hannibal held him against his chest as he smiled with delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!
> 
> Here I am! I've been learning a lot of English lately, still not enough, but I'm working hard to write a good story.  
And... 
> 
> ♥‿♥ They're finally together!!! ♥‿♥


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

A French-style crystal and gold chandelier lighted up a stunning bedroom full of antique Victorian bed furniture. In the center of the room was a Victorian four-poster canopy bed with beautiful golden and white silk curtains tied tightly on each pole. The mansion's master bedroom became Will's new cage.

A couple of hours after his arrival, he opened the eyes. He was still under the influence of the drug, but he did recognize Hannibal. Despite he could not see him.

Hannibal was treating his injured hand with the utmost care. He took out his two rings while looking at them with contempt and then placed them on a jewelry box that rests on the side table. When he noticed Will opened the eyes, he questioned him.

“How did you hurt your hand? Was it Frederick?” He was serious. He felt upset about the whole situation.

Will muttered but was in vain, he fainted again.

Hannibal looked at him while sighing. He was thinking about the multiple variables of his plan, but two stood up from the rest. On the one hand, he was relieved to have Will by his side. But on the other, he felt insecure about a new rejection.

Usually, he would not go through so many problems. He could not deny it, his compassion for Will was his biggest weakness. After that, he continued treating his hand.

The next day, Bernard arrived at 7 a.m. as usual at Will’s house. The dogs howled and scratched the door in desperation. That alerted him, and he ran to see what was happening. On the porch, there were traces of dried blood.

“Mr. Graham?” He didn't receive an answer then nocked again and again. But nothing changed.

Bernard decided to enter the house. The bed was intact. Also, the food was still in the fridge. Will had not spent the night at home.

He immediately called Jack Crawford to report Will's disappearance. The house was surrounded by police cars, within less than half an hour.

Jack was yelling at some police officers. “You were supposed to watch the house and its surroundings! But you were sleeping!”

“Please listen to us.” The officers wanted to explain what happened last night, but Jack didn't give them the opportunity.

“No, there is nothing worth to listen! You were supposed to protect one person! Just one person! And you failed miserably!” Crawford was out of his mind. He had set up a special team to protect Will, and it didn't help. Again he had failed him to keep him safe.

Miriam approached Jack, trying to calm him down. “It’s better if we keep a cool head, Guru.”

“Yes, you’re right.” He tried to calm down. He had to keep a cool head to analyze the situation.

Zeller was gathering the evidence for analysis in the laboratory. However, from the scene, not much could be collected. All the evidence was blood on the porch and pieces of a shattered bottle.

Alana hastily arrived at Will's house. She was so upset that her face seemed to burn. Immediately she approached Crawford to give him some bad news.

“What happens to you?” Disconcerted, he looked at the woman.

“Hannibal sent me a letter. Look.” Alana handed the letter to Crawford.

“Dear Alana. I inform you that Will is going to be absent for an indefinite period. For this reason, I request you, as attentively as possible, that you assume the care of his dogs. I know it's not the most polite manner to request a courtesy, but I expect, and you understand my circumstances.”

“Son of a bitch!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The news about Will’s abduction was a major bomb, but Freddie Lounds was unable to get closer to the crime scene, no matter how much she tried. She had to wait until nightfall to investigate Graham's house. It was the best time to take pictures of what would become the news of the week.

There were only a couple of cops on the way to the road. Freddie was able to enter the house quietly. Once inside the woman took pictures of everything she could, she was willing to make her intrusion worthwhile.

She inspected every room of the house, leaving no corner unchecked. After finishing she left the house and went to the shed but before arrived, she heard some voices. She quickly sought shelter so they would not notice her presence.

“Did they take him away at night?” that voice was from Demian Sutton. Freddie could recognize him from the many times she saw him on television giving interviews.

“It was just as I'm telling you.” Bernard told him everything he knew about Will's kidnapping.

Lounds took out his camera and photographed them. Her instinct told her that they knew what had happened to Graham, and she was willing to find out.

The men got so far away that she couldn't finish hearing their conversation. A few minutes later, Demian left the place. Freddie came out of her hiding spot only to find Bernard digging near a tree. Since he was a considerable distance away, she could not see what he had buried.

Freddie waited patiently for Bernard to leave and went to the place where the man had dug. With her hands, she dug into the ground until she came across a black plastic bag. Inside the bag was a shredded paper and a gun.

The woman smiled as if she had won the lottery.

The morning came accompanied by a beautiful piece. Hannibal was playing the piano. Liebestraum No. 3. For a long time, he didn't feel in the mood to play any instrument. But with Will's arrival, his mood was renewed.

Bedelia kept him company, although she didn't have many options. She had lost one of her legs, just two days ago. Hannibal had cut it off, as it would be the main course of that night.

At the time being, she was enjoying the exquisite piece while drinking a glass of wine.

“Demian has returned,” he suddenly said it.

The woman startled and almost dropped the glass. “Really?” her voice trembled.

Without taking his eyes off of the keys of the piano, he continued to talk. “He is here because of you. For the letter you sent him.”

The mention of his name gave her great nostalgia. It had been more than a decade since she heard anything about him, her very first friend and also her first love.

“It wasn’t my intention to make him come back. I just wanted to say goodbye to... an old friend.” She clenched her fist over her severed leg.

A splendid piece filled the old hall. Hannibal portrayed his feelings, as vividly and faithfully he could. Words weren’t enough to describe what transcends the body, and music hasn’t those limitations.

The man looked at Bedelia, who remained silent for a long while. “Saying goodbye to a loved one should not be easy.” He broke the silence.

She drank the last sip of wine. “You tell me. Now you know what love is.” She defiantly looked at him.

“Certainly.” He looked emotionless.

By the expression on her face, she wasn’t enjoying their conversation. “Will you hurt him?” She rubbed her finger along the rim of the glass.

“It mortifies you what can happen to him?” His gaze wandered over her face.

“Yes,” she answered bluntly.

The piece continued filling the hall and the conversation.

“True love has no expiry date,” he responded in a serious tone.

She kept holding the empty glass delicately. “Nor logic.”

Hannibal looked at her. He had a quizzical expression on his face. “I do not agree. Everything has a logic.”

“If everything has a logic, why did you kidnap Will?” The tension was building up slowly.

Hannibal was still playing. Regardless of how immerse he looked, he was paying attention to every word the woman said.

“Men are driven by two principal impulses, either by love or by fear.”

Because of the way the conversation unfolded, it was almost like time had been reversed, and they were again, therapist and patient. That's what Bedelia felt at that moment. A longing for the time she didn't know or didn't want to realize how dangerous it was to be with that man.

“Which one drives you?” She looked at him, analyzing every movement, every word, everything.

He continued playing with passion. Bedelia spellbound listened to the piece. She could not believe that a man like him could feel the love with such intensity.

“Impulses don't drive me in any way. My guide has always been the mathematics of life. The only thing similar to an impulse in my life has a name...” —when he finished playing, he stared at Bedelia—“…and it’s Will Graham.” His gaze connoted a feeling so deep, that Bedelia felt dragged by its immensity.

Hannibal got up from the piano stool and went for a bottle of wine and a glass. He refilled Bedelia's glass then did the same with his own.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, and he nodded slightly in response.

Hannibal sat in front of her. He crossed his legs and looked at her as he sipped his glass.

She felt a knot forming in her throat. She took a deep breath and looked at him. “That love will lead you to your death.” Despite everything, she still felt worried about him.

“Perhaps,” he smiled with a certain bitterness.

Bedelia couldn't believe he was willing to give it all up for Will. “You’ll ache, and you’re going to love it. It will crush you, and you’re still going to love all of it.”

“Doesn’t it sound lovely beyond belief?” he pronounced that from the depths of his being.

Later that day, Freddie wasted no time and went straight to look for Demian Sutton. The contents of the bag had revealed many things to her. However, she needed to know why Dr. Sutton had gone to Graham's house right after his kidnapping.

Something strange was happening, and she was willing to do whatever it takes to find out the truth. But first, she needed all the pieces of the puzzle.

Her luck never ceased to surprise her, as Demian agreed to see her that very morning.

The woman entered the office, inspecting every corner stealthily. “Good morning, Dr. Sutton. My name is Freddie Lounds, and I write for the Tattlecrime.” They shook hands courteously.

“Please take a seat. I already know you. Here you have a fervent supporter and an avid reader of your interesting articles.” He sat accompanied by his tic.

“Really? I thought you might be against my work.” She was surprised by the man's natural personality. She expected him to be as elitist as Hannibal. His honesty was something that surprised everyone.

“Why would I?” he said it with a grimace.

Freddie looked at him with intrigue. “By the way, you look like Will Graham, in a way I can't explain. I wonder a lot of things now.” Demian just smiled at her words. “Well, just forget that. I was telling you, I thought you'd be against my work because you're close to Graham.”

Demian leaned on the chair while crossing his legs. “We’re not close at all. It’s only a doctor-patient relationship.”

“Does that mean you can give me the information I need?” She knew all the necessary tricks to obtain information. Although it seemed this time wouldn't be easy.

Demian noticed the woman's cunning and smiled. It had been a long time since he had known someone like him. “It depends on how much you’re willing to give for it.”

Freddie leaned against the chair and crossed her arms with self-sufficiency. “I know you were at Graham’s house last night. I have evidence.” She took a flash drive out of her jacket pocket.

“You came to my office to blackmail me, Freddie?”—he laughed out loud—“You sure have guts.”

She kept the flash drive in her pocket. “No, on the contrary. I want to get to an agreement with you.” She lowered her arms and looked at him decidedly.

“I’m not interested.” He turned his gaze to his feet. Suddenly he began to rock in the chair.

“I know about your relationship with Hannibal, but not just the rumors. I know a lot regarding your father and him.” She smirked triumphantly.

Demian stopped and looked at her seriously. “You said, my father? My father?”

“Yes, Dr. Donahue Sutton. One of the most prestigious surgeons on the continent, and who died, the same day you left the country to refuge yourself in Japan. What a strange coincidence, don't you think?” The woman knew exactly how to get what she wanted, and she was willing to take down anyone to achieve her goal.

“What do you know?” He was upset. All he wanted was the information and that she disappeared forever.

“If you want to know, tell me about last night. What happened between you and that man?”

He couldn't give her that information. There was a lot at stake, and he couldn't afford to risk it all for the simple information of a sensationalist journalist.

Demian remained silent.

The sun was setting and it was time to have everything ready for that night's main event. It was playing in the background, Death and the maiden. Hannibal was at the kitchen cooking for the special event of that night.

He took the meat out of the fridge. He made sure to prepare it beforehand and skinned it the night before. It was an outstanding meat cut.

He had all the ingredients ready.

He crushed a pair of garlic with a knife. Then put it in a bowl and added rosemary, lemon zest, a bit of oil and pepper. He put the mixture all over the meat. In a skillet, he put oil and the meat. A beautiful sound indicated the meat was searing.

He puts water to boil, then added the fava beans just for a minute. In another bowl, he had water with ice cubes. When the fava beans were ready, he puts them into the icy water. He drained them and peel them.

He returned to the meat to turn it frequently until it was browned on all sides. When it was ready, he transferred it to the oven. Immediately, he prepared a balsamic reduction.

The meal was almost ready. Just the final touches were left. The night was beginning. It was almost time for the supper Hannibal prepared to receive Will.

He selected for him a white tuxedo with a black lapel, black trousers, a white plain front tuxedo shirt, black bow tie, and French cuffs. For Will, he selected almost the same, except for the midnight blue tuxedo with black lapel and the white pique bib tuxedo shirt.

Every piece of clothing was tailor-made.

Bedelia was getting dressed too. A navy blue long dress crystal beaded in v-neck was the choice of the host.

The very idea of seeing her leg in the center of the table gave her chills. But what terrified her, though, was the idea of having to eat it. That was Hannibal's plan that the three of them sat at the table to eat her leg.

She touched the stump of her leg. It was all covered by bandages. The sight of that brought her to tears.

It was only the beginning of the horrendous destiny that waited for her. A knock on the door brought her back.

“May I come in?” Hannibal’s voice scared her.

“Please, come in.” She was finishing to puts her makeup on.

The man entered the room, his presence as intimidating as ever. He had the innate ability to make anyone who saw him feel nervous.

“You're looking beautiful.” He stood up next to her.

She inhaled deeply discreetly. She felt that this horrible situation would drive her insane at any moment. However, she had a mission to accomplish. Her life no longer had salvation, but before it would come to an end, she was going to perform her last and only heroic act.

“You’re looking good too.” She finished to puts on her lipstick.

“Are you ready? The night awaits for us.” He offered her his hand.

He carried her on his arms to the dining room. The hallway was infinite to Bedelia’s eyes. It was her corridor of death.

The table was set, and her leg was at the center, crowning the table. Bedelia averted her eyes.

Hannibal could felt her trembling body. “Make yourself comfortable”—he poured some water in a glass and offered it to her—“I’m going to bring Will. If you excuse me.”

When he left, Bedelia's breath was unstable. She could smell her cooked leg, and the smell upset her stomach. She felt like throwing up.

In the master bedroom, Hannibal was helping Will to brush his hair. A silver comb ran through his curly hair, but it wasn't easy to control. Hannibal looked at him affectionately, but Will was still under the influence of the drug. He didn't quite understand what was going on around him.

When he was ready, they headed to the dining room, where Bedelia was waiting for them.

The sound of the wheelchair at a distance made her react. The woman sneaked a fork from the table and hid it in her dress. The time had come to execute the plan she had thought of so long ago.

Hannibal sat Will in the seat of honor. He carried him and put him in the chair with care. “Sorry for the wait.” He went to his place in the middle of the table.

She placed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry.”

The effect of the drug was in the final stage. Will's gaze remained lost, and his head swayed from side to side. He still had no control over his body.

“How much drug did they use on him? He's been like that the whole day,” she asked when seeing that he was unable to control any of his movements.

Hannibal was cutting the meat and placing it on each plate. “A high dose, I assume.”

After a while, Will began to regain consciousness. His eyelids felt so heavy that it was difficult for him to keep them open. A strange sensation made him clench his fist, at which point he saw his hand covered with a bandage.

“B-Bedelia?” She was the first he saw. Although she was a considerable distance away, he could see the woman.

“Hello, Will,” she pronounced it dryly.

Hannibal looked at him gladly. He approached Will to make sure of his well-being. He checked his pupils carefully, as well as the sides of his head. “It seemed like the effects of the sedatives are wearing off. Good.” He smiled up at him as his hand found his shoulder.

He gracefully placed the plates in front of every diner. Then he filled the glasses with Chianti Classico. “Let’s have a toast. For us. For our future.”

Bedelia raised her glass. “A toast to the beginning of your life together and the end of mine.”

“Ends and beginnings are so closely connected, that you can't separate them.” —he smiled with malice, then went to help Will hold his glass while whispering in his ear—“Will, it is an enormous pleasure having you here.”

A horrible expression enlightened Hannibal's face when all the glasses were raised. He experienced an overwhelming bliss for the culmination of one of his plans.

“Then, let’s start with the celebration. I’ve been planning this dinner even before our last encounter. It's something simple but tasteful. Balsamic roast meat with fava beans. Enjoy your meal.” He sat at the table and began to eat elegantly.

Will looked around, trying to keep focus. For an instant, his surroundings became shadows. It seemed the effect of the drug had not disappeared entirely.

“Why are you doing this?” He lowered the glass and looked at Hannibal, waiting for an answer.

Bedelia cleared her throat gently. “Because he has agency in the world. Remember?”

The meat served to them, only provoked a discomfort they had never experienced before. They felt a hole in the stomach knowing that it was human flesh.

His eyes were on Hannibal without realizing it. The way he ate was unique. He did treat his ingredients, with the greatest care, and not only in the kitchen but also at the table, he was equally respectful.

_Is that his way of honoring the person?_ Will thought for a moment. _No, it's the way he praises his art. It's narcissism at its maximum expression._ The expression on Hannibal's face made it clear.

“What is it?” Will asked without looking away from the plate.

“It’s my leg” Bedelia replied with a soft voice. It was difficult for her to assimilate.

Hannibal wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Something wrong?”

Will looked away from the food. “I can’t eat this.” Involuntary spasms in his face made it difficult to keep his face in one position.

“Of course, you can. I’d made sure to broaden your palate so you could be able to enjoy every type of delicacy. Besides, I’d never served you something that would be bad for your health.” With a movement of his hand, he asked him to eat.

Will almost refused again but saw Hannibal holding a knife. All he could do was follow his orders. Otherwise, he would put Bedelia or himself in danger.

Hesitating, he held the fork and knife. A pain in his chest made it difficult for him to breathe. He felt like he would faint at any moment. However, he managed to remain calm and cut off a piece of meat.

Although his hand trembled, he succeeded in taking the piece of meat with the fork. Will lifted his head and saw Hannibal looking at him in ecstasy, hoping to see him eat the meat.

The situation was so demanding. He felt exhausted. The blood started to accumulate in his head, made him feel dizzy. He put the piece of meat into his mouth. The sensation was unbearable. With his tongue, he moved the meat from one side to the other, as his forehead began to shine with sweat.

Will swallowed the meat.

He lowered his gaze. At that moment, the last he wanted, was for his empathy to show him the inside of Bedelia's mind.

Hannibal was delighted.

“Bedelia, how does it taste?” He shamelessly looked at the woman who was paralyzed at the table.

Bedelia turned her face slowly to Hannibal and looked at him defiantly. She cut off a piece of meat to eat it instantly.

“It’s superb, as expected. Your skills always at its finest.” Although she managed to remain calm, a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Glad to hear.” Hannibal smiled and continued eating.

Back in the bedroom, Will opened his eyes. He didn't understand what had happened, just a moment ago he was at the table, and now he was back in the bedroom. He sat up slowly and looked around. Although, it was of no use as his vision was somewhat blurred.

Suddenly he saw someone approaching the bed. It was Hannibal. “Why am I here?” he asked while rubbing his eyes insistently.

“You fainted. It looks like the effects of the sedatives finally are gone.” He approached him and touched his forehead, making sure he had no fever.

Hannibal gave him a small cup of tea. “What is this?” He looked at the liquid in the cup.

He offered him the tea again. “Just drink it.”

Will grabbed the cup. 2Why did you bring me to this house?” He took small sips as he looked around.

“We talk tomorrow. Now, just sleep” Hannibal grabbed the cup and put it on the bedside table.

Instantly he felt sleepy. “Did you put something in the tea?”

“Perhaps. Close your eyes and get some rest.” He approached Will and helped him go back to bed.

Hannibal stood by his side, watching over his dream. A few minutes later, Will opened his eyes again and began to speak.

“I dreamed of you almost every day,” his voice was slower than usual. He was more asleep than awake.

“What did you dream about?” It was the first time he had an interest in someone's life, and not for ulterior motives.

“We were at your mind palace. You woke me up from the coma.” His eyes were closing from sleep, but he tried to stay awake to tell him what was in his mind.

“Of course, I did. I can do anything for you.” He took Will's hand while smiling.

“I missed you,” he pronounced faintly before falling asleep.

Hannibal caressed his hair with tenderness. “The madness of love is the greatest of heaven's blessings.”

Later that night, Will's former nurse, Helena, was leaving a restaurant accompanied by her boyfriend. They were celebrating their fifth anniversary at the place where they had met. The man booked the restaurant at 10 p.m. It was the time when Helena finished her shift at her new job.

They left the restaurant after midnight. Because they were hugging and talking didn't notice that someone was approaching from behind. Suddenly a gun pointed at them. It was a person whose face was covered by a black balaclava.

Without talking, the person took them to a nearby alley. When they arrived, the man tried to protect his girlfriend, but it was in vain. A bullet in the head ended his life. The woman shouted while trying to reach him.

Helena got hit in the back of the neck with the butt of the gun, leaving her unconscious.

The nurse opened her eyes, only to realize she had been kidnap. She was in a basement tied to a chair. When she looked down, she saw a spot of dried blood. Someone had died there not long ago.

She struggled to untie herself, but it was useless. The ropes were tied too tightly. She looked around, trying to understand where she was. She wanted to keep her mind alert and not to panic.

Before she could come up with anything, the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs startled her.

“Welcome, Miss Johnson. I'm sure you know me as well as your friend, Miss Williams.” Hannibal was coming down the stairs. He was wearing his special protective suit and surgical gloves.

The woman's eyes filled with tears. She knew what was going to happen to her.

“She was here recently, as you may have noticed.” With a gesture, he showed her the floor stained with blood.

The woman struggled to free herself, she also tried to scream but the gag only let out a few weak groans. At that moment, Hannibal was examining the edge of one of his knives against the light. He was doing it so meticulously that the woman trembled with fear.

“You never thought your actions would have consequences. That's why this world is so rotten.” He was so angry that his face reflected every one of his emotions. He could only feel contempt for the woman in front of him.

Hannibal cut the ligaments of the woman's mouth. After that, he did the same thing to her as he did to the other nurse, cut out her tongue, without any contemplation.

Her screams were the last thing heard in the basement that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!  
This chapter was especially difficult to write because I had to read a lot of stuff regarding furniture, clothes, food, and music. I do hope you enjoyed it even a little.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

Bedelia was having tea in the garden of her house with Demian. It had only been six months since their separation, and now they only saw each other to decide how they would distribute the goods purchased during their relationship.

“I want you to keep this house,” said Demian as he insistently rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Are you sure?” She looked at him sadly.

“Yes. It's the best.” A twinge in his head made him close his eyes tightly. Since the therapy began, the spasms became his companions.

The day was beautiful and sunny, but Demian was wearing a turtleneck sweater as if it were going to snow. And, he was constantly rubbing his hands trying to get warm. Bedelia was worried because of his strange behavior.

“How's your therapy going?” She tried to take his hand, but he quickly rose to his feet.

“I don't know, and I'm not sure if I should tell you either. Because you wouldn't believe me.” Demian took a few steps and then sat down again. Out of nowhere, he started rocking in the chair.

“Why wouldn't I believe you?” Bedelia narrowed her eyes as she looked at him.

He leaned in the chair and crossed his arms with disdain. “Because everyone is enchanted by Hannibal and nobody believes in anything that slanders him.”

Bedelia did not know what to do. Only a few months ago, he was going to be her husband, the man with whom she would share her life, and now he was like a stranger for whom she felt sorry.

“Tell me what's happening to you, trust me.” She wanted to help him, although deep down she knew she was part of his problems.

“Hannibal is happening to me. That man is driving me crazy!” He was upset. He wanted someone to help him, but nobody seemed to listen to him. And at that moment, he wasn't sure if he still wanted someone to listen to him.

“That's not true. The treatment is in its first phase, so you feel this way, because...” Before she could continue to explain the process of therapy to him, he interrupted it all of a sudden.

“I told you! You wouldn't believe me!” He wanted to shout all his reasons, but his tic as reliable as ever came to save him. His hand against his chest was the only thing that offered him calm and prevented him from getting out of hand. An awkward silence seized the atmosphere. Demian was still rocking slowly in the chair. It was like he was in a trance.

“Good morning. Am I interrupting?” Hannibal arrived untimely.

Bedelia stood up and invited him to sit down. “Of course not, go ahead. I was waiting for you.”

Demian got up and started screaming. “What are you doing here?” His breathing was agitated. It was evident that he was suffering an episode.

“Calm down ...” Hannibal stopped her before she approached him.

“I'll take care of it,” he said to her. “Listen carefully, Demian. You must breathe calmly.”

Before he could get close, the man began to convulse.

“Demian!” Bedelia shouted.

“It's only a mild seizure. He's going to be fine”—Hannibal approached and held him tightly by the face, then he whispered—“You really are fascinating.” An evil smile was drawn on his face as he watched the man convulse in front of him.

**\-------------------------------------------**

An incessant flickering light.

Phrases being repeated.

And a face he knew perfectly.

Will opened his eyes. Now he was conscious and knew that Hannibal, once again, was playing with his mind.

With difficulty, he sat on the bed. On the pillow next to his was a note. "Dear Will. At the foot of the bed, you will find a change of clothes. I hope it is to your liking. I'll be waiting for you in the kitchen for breakfast." The man wrinkled the paper and left it on the bed.

At the bench was a denim shirt, a white t-shirt, a pair of black jeans and triple velcro sneakers in white.

“What a selection,” he chuckled.

When he finished dressing, he took his crutches and went to look for the kitchen.

The house was huge and luxurious. The furniture looked like it had been taken from a museum. Will couldn't help but be amazed at every step. That place was just as he had imagined the interior of Hannibal's mental palace.

By the time he got to the kitchen, Hannibal was waiting for him. “Good morning, Will. I see you slept well.” He stood up to receive him.

“Not too well.” He looked around. The kitchen was outstanding as the rest of the place, but what caught his attention was an antique coffee maker with golden edges.

When he noticed his interest in the coffee maker he smiled. “Coffee?” Will just nodded. Hannibal prepared a cup for him.

“I see the clothes fit you perfectly.” He looked at the man from top to bottom.

Will was drinking the coffee, so he nodded again.

“I chose that kind of shoes because they are convenient in your current state of health.” He held his cup and took a sip. 

As he sat at the table, he replied. “They're very comfortable, thank you.” He put the crutches on the wall nearby.

“Would you like something to eat?”

Will remembered the horrible experience of the night before. “No. I don't want to eat anything.” He held the cup firmly.

His reactions amused Hannibal, but he didn't intend to leave him without eating anything. “I was going to offer you fruit. Don't you want it?”

A few minutes later, a plate with fruit salad was in front of him. The dish was so beautiful that it seemed to be part of the menu of one of the best restaurants. And not only was the presentation spectacular, so was the taste.

He pushed the plate aside and looked at him. “The first day I came here, I had it blurred. But I'm sure you used that light to brainwash me, right?”

Hannibal lowered the cup and interlocked his fingers. “Why would you think that?”

He felt tense and scared, but he wanted to know the truth. “I remembered part of the session. You don't have to lie, your facade is over.”

Will's decision made him smile. If there was anything he enjoyed it, was seeing him so resolved. “Yes, I did it.”

He felt incredulous. He still couldn't understand how Hannibal could have so much cynicism. A part of him enjoyed it more than he was willing to admit, though.

“Why?” His drowned voice and gaze only reflected his disappointment.

It was the first time Hannibal experienced guilt. He tried to speak a couple of times but couldn't articulate a word. He looked away, at that moment he didn't want to see him in the eyes, not without first knowing what he would answer.

He had always managed to maintain his posture, but he realized that in front of him, everything was different. His greatest weakness made him stumble as if he were a small child.

“How is the fruit? Is it fresh?” After seeing the plate several times, it was all he could think.

Hannibal didn't want to lie to him, so the best thing was to change the subject shamelessly. However, he knew Will would understand the reason for his stupid questions. No one knew him better than he did.

“Yes, it's fresh and juicy.” He took the plate and ate again.

“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experiences what you really are.”

He never felt such a strong connection with another person. And though he knew he was putting aside his basic principles of survival, he couldn't help but expose his true self to Will.

He slowly raised his head until his gazes met. “Am I seeing you or experiencing you?”

“You do not ask the wounded person how he feels. You yourself become the wounded person.”

Will leaned on the chair and stared at him. It was as if he was reading the story of his life, chapter by chapter.

Hannibal just smiled. “Finish your breakfast.”

At that moment, Jack was on his way to the office when his cell phone started ringing. “Alana, is something wrong?” The man left his house and walked to his car.

“You should read the last article Freddie published in Tattlecrime. Immediately.” Alana sounded pretty upset. It seemed that something serious was happening.

“An article by Freddie Lounds?” Jack couldn't believe that something written by that woman could be relevant.

“When you read it, you'll understand.” He hung up and got in the car.

Once inside, he looked for the news that had Alana so upset.

'Helena Johnson, the new victim of the Butcher of the East or the Chesapeake Ripper?'

Jack continued reading. In the note, Freddie not only wrote about Helena's abduction but also mentioned Debbie's disappearance. She also mentioned the alleged link between her disappearances and Will Graham's kidnapping.

At the end of the note, she mentioned that Helena's boyfriend, Trevor Reed, had survived the attack and was in the hospital in serious condition.

After a few calls, Jack discovered in which hospital the man was. Trevor was the only witness, and he had to protect him at all costs.

“Good morning, doctor. I'm Jack Crawford, an FBI Agent. Here is the order for Trevor Reed's transfer.” After some routine procedures, he was able to obtain the order to transfer the young man to the FBI's medical center.

Jack had the team assembled in his office, including Miriam. It was necessary to establish the rules of the game. This time, Jack was willing to put everything at stake.

“We have been gathered together because, as you know, four years have passed, and we have no idea of Lecter's whereabouts,” he cleared his throat and looked closely at each one.

“Hannibal knows how to move his pieces,” Alana said scornfully.

Jimmy puts a hand on Zeller. “That man won't be easy to catch. He knows how we work because he was a part of our team.”

“He's got a head start on us,” Zeller added.

Jack had the file with the pictures of the missing nurses. He took them out and lifted them to his chest. Slowly he showed the woman's faces to his team.

“These women used to help with Will's rehabilitation.”

“Are they the ones who sold Graham's information and photographs?” Jimmy asked as he rubbed his chin.

“Exactly. And now they're both missing”—he put the photos back in the file—“We think it was Hannibal.” Instinctively he looked at Miriam. He couldn't help it.

Alana approached the desk and leaned on it. “If he kidnapped those women, the chances are that by now they are both dead.”

Zeller stepped forward. “He did it for Graham, didn't he? By selling that information, they signed their death warrant.”

Jack nodded and cleared his throat. “Although not all is lost”—a huge smile illuminated his face—“Helena was kidnapped when she was with her boyfriend. What the attacker doesn't know is that the man survived the gunshot and is in my custody.”

“What?“ Without being able to avoid it, Miriam was surprised by the latter.

Alana and Jack looked at each other. It seemed that they had obtained the result they were waiting for with the disclosure of that information.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you, Guru.” She bit her lips. Miriam knew she had made an unforgivable mistake, but there was nothing she could do to make amends.

“Don't worry. This situation has impacted us all.” Even though he intended to capture her as Hannibal's accomplice, he still felt hurt. Deep down, he knew that she was just another victim of that man.

Jack took a gun from his coat. “Price and Zeller. I'm going to entrust you with a special job.” Both men looked at him intrigued. “I want you to be the ones in charge of Trevor Reed's health.”

“Sure, Jack. You can count on us,” Zeller replied decisively.

“You're going to need this.” He offered them the gun, and Price took it with some reserve.

“Why will we need it?” said Jimmy while seeing the gun with rejection.

“Because they will try to kill you to get rid of the only witness.”

It was already afternoon and Will was walking around the house, only where it was easy to walk on crutches. He wasn't confident enough to go up or downstairs.

He felt trapped, not because he had been kidnapped, but because he didn't know how to act in that strange situation. After a long walk, he decided to go and get a glass of water, but on the way, he saw Hannibal painting on a wall.

“What are you doing?” Will asked when he saw him finish a sketch on the wall.

“A painting of us,” he replied as he placed several jars of paint on a nearby table.

After seeing the colors, the style of the mural was evident. “Fauvism?”

“Exactly. The color palette of our life is not conventional. Fauvism is the best way to represent us.” He took a thick brush and began to paint the lake in black. Large brush strokes, leaving a consistent coat of paint.

Will looked absorbed the sketch on the wall, every line, every shape, was captivating in its entirety. It was a bird with open wings. It flew majestically over a lake full of floating corpses.

“Why that design?” Again he was immersed.

Hannibal placed the brush in a special solution.

“All humans are born with wings, but not everyone has the joy of knowing how to use them. It's a gift. Only a handful manage to spread them, but only the chosen ones can fly.”

“So you are a chosen one.”

“And so are you. Although for the moment, you have only spread your beautiful wings. You don't know how anxious I am to see how high you can fly.” He took a brush and offered it to Will. — Do you want to help? —.

“I'm not at all artistic.” He approached, and with his finger tapped the edge of the table several times.

“You didn't know you're good at killing, and you are.” Hannibal smiled as he looked into his eyes.

Will held the brush slightly angry. “Why do you say the painting is of us?”

Without stopping painting, he replied. ”It's our transition.”

“Transition?” He couldn't understand what he meant by that.

“That's right. Two phases precede a beginning. The first is the knowledge of our feelings towards something or someone”—after saying that, he looked at Will with affection—“The second is the transition. That's when we decide how we're going to deal with that feeling. Then comes the beginning, based on that decision.”

Will looked down. He analyzed each word carefully and felt enormous pressure on his chest. Although he was aware of his feelings for Hannibal, it was true that he still didn't know how to deal with them.

“Our relationship is in the transition phase.” Hannibal took green paint and began painting the bird's eyes.

“Can I paint the way I want?” Although he seemed to look closely at the jars, his mind was still wandering. He couldn't come to a decision. Deciding with your mind something that shakes your soul, is not easy.

“Of course. This mural is the way to our beginning, and it must be as we want it to be.”

Will approached the mural as Hannibal watched him. He looked into the bird's green eyes. A thrilling feeling made him sigh. He lifted the brush and, with a beautiful crimson color, painted tears to the bird falling into the lake.

After a long day's work, Alana was at home, finally. She felt exhausted for the long day she had. And went straight to her room, and a huge surprise awaited for her. 

“Welcome home,” Margot said happily.

Not knowing what to answer, she was stunned at the entrance of the room.

“Are you all right? Is something wrong?” She approached Alana and looked at her with concern.

Alana held her arm. She was angry and happy at the same time. “What are you doing here? I told you clearly that you couldn't come. In this place, you are in danger.”

“Maybe, but you're in danger too. Don't you think I'm dying of worry?” She gave her a little kiss on the cheek and then hugged her for a long time.

“How's Matthew?” That hug made her want to keep fighting that monster.

“He misses you as much or more than I do.” For a moment, they didn't say a word. Sometimes silence was more significant than any phrase.

Suddenly one of his bodyguards knocked on the door. “Excuse me, signora, but someone has brought you a package.”

“Thank you, you can leave now.” Alana took the box. It was just the size of a bottle of wine. 

“What is it?” Margot went to see the contents.

Indeed it was a bottle of wine. It was a 1999 Domaine Leroy Musigny. At the bottom of the box, there was a note.

'Dear Margot. Welcome to my old house. I hope you enjoyed your stay. '

“Fuck!” Full of rage, she threw the bottle on the floor.

Hannibal waited until nightfall to pack the flesh of the bodies he had in the basement freezers. He was preparing the meat cutting machine. It was time to dispose of the nurses' bodies and to preserve all the edible parts.

He cleaned both bodies, then with a marker, he traced all the cuts he would make. With a small saw, he removed the upper part of the skull, leaving the brain exposed. After a few precise cuts, he removed it and placed it on a silver tray.

He opened the torso with the scalpel, and with tweezers, he broke the ribs. When the organs were exposed, he removed them carefully. Using his sense of smell, he decided which organs were in good condition. Those in good condition went to the silver tray and rejected them to a nearby trash can. When he had the organs, he vacuums sealed them and took them to the refrigerator.

It was time to cut the flesh.

He cut the thinnest bones by hand. He did it with such precision that his experience was evident. For bones such as the spine and pelvis, he used the meat cutting machine. The sound was so loud that it woke Will up.

Trying to recognize where the sound came from, still asleep, he took his crutches and left the room. In the kitchen, the sound was louder. He realized the sound was coming from the basement.

When he opened the door, he saw the stairs and felt a little intimidated. However, his curiosity made him take courage. Will held the crutches firmly and slowly descended. As he came down, the sound of the cutter was deafening.

In the last step, he saw Hannibal cutting the remains of a corpse.

“What are you doing?!” he yelled to be heard.

When he heard him, he turned off the machine. “I didn't think it would be so loud. I apologize for interrupting your sleep.”

Will looked around in terror. There was too much blood on the floor. “Who did you kill?”

At that moment, he could only think of Beverly. The idea that she had died in such a place stunned him.

Hannibal took off his gloves and slowly approached him. “Tomorrow's dinner will be sfeeha. It is a dish from...”

His calm attitude exasperated him. “Who the fuck did you kill?!”

He began to sweat. He tried to prevent sweat from reaching his eyes, with one hand. Spasms create involuntary movements, not only in the face but also in the body.

“You'd better go upstairs and rest.” Hannibal was worried. If he continued like that, he could suffer a seizure.

“Answer me!” Will was angry and confused. He didn't know how to act. All he wanted was to get out of there.

At that moment, he saw Katz walking next to Hannibal.

“If you still don't know what you'll defend, we'll all end up the same way.” Half of her body disappeared in a blink of an eye. With her only arm, she held a plate with a brain on it. “Eat this. Your palate is used to its taste.” Just as she offered him the plate, it began to drip with blood.

His eyes filled with tears. “No, please don't.” He took a few steps backward awkwardly.

Hannibal realized that Will was the victim of hallucinations. “Listen, Will. Whatever you're seeing isn't real.”

Abigail showed up behind Katz. She looked at him nostalgically.

“Abigail,” he called her in a faltering voice. It was the first time he had seen her in more than seven years.

Hannibal was still trying to make him react. “I need you to stay with me”—he held him by his shoulders—“Will, listen...” his voice couldn't reach his ears.

“He's not the monster everyone says. You know him better than anyone else”—Abigail said softly—“You mustn't abandon it. If you do, you will again regret the consequences of your decisions.” The wound in her neck began to open, and blood spurts fell to the ground.

Katz suddenly appeared in front of him. “He will kill them all. You have two choices, to sit at his table to eat with him or to do something to stop him.”

The blood of both women quickly filled the floor.

“No! Please forgive me! I didn't want you to die, but it was my fault! You died because of me!” He felt the blood would swallow him as the sea did.

“Will, you have to react. Will!” The man passed out. Before falling to the floor, Hannibal held him in his arms.

A couple of hours later, in the bedroom, Will opened his eyes. He felt his head was about to explode due to what had happened in the basement. Beside the bed, sitting in a chair, Hannibal was reading a thick book.

“Finally, you wake up.” He put his book down carefully on the bedside table.

He looked around, and everything was blurry. He couldn't tell where he was. “Where...?”

Hannibal approached him with a cup of tea.

After a few seconds, he recovered his sight. Will cleared his throat and looked at the tea. “Is it good for me, or is it good for you?”

He smiled slightly. “It's good for both of us.” He lifted Will's head a little so he could drink the tea.

When he had finished the infusion, he went back to sleep. Hannibal stayed by his side, gently stroking his hair.

In a scandalous club, Demian was spending his night. He liked to go to those places when the sadness overcame him. An attractive young woman agreed to be with him, just because he took her hand and smiled at her. Even he thought it was the worst thing a person could do. But he was not going to deny that his good luck was also guilty, he had always been lucky with women.

Demian took her to the bathroom.

He touched her hair. It was black and long and had an essence of strawberries with cream. He wasn't sure if that was what her hair smelled like, or if his weakness for the sweets and the hunger he felt were to blame. He didn't pay special attention to her clothes, in fact, the only thing that attracted him to her was her candy essence.

“I like rough sex, really rough.” He thought when he said that the girl would run out of the little cubicle, but quite the opposite. The girl caressed his face and kissed him.

He held her hair tightly to end that uncomfortable kiss and slammed her into the door. The loud music from outside perfectly covered all the noise coming from the bathroom. No matter how badly he treated her, the woman seemed to be pleased with everything that was happening.

The whole situation bothered him, he felt nothing again. No matter how close their bodies were, the cold continued to take over his body.

He left the club and went directly to a hotel, accompanied by the woman. He thought that maybe a change of scenery would make him feel better. In the room, it didn't matter how much he hit her. It seemed that the worse he treated her the happier she felt. However, he couldn't feel anything. His body was still cold.

He got up from the bed. The girl slept peacefully, covered by the light blanket.

His silhouette was glimpsed by the moonlight that entered through the huge window. Demian sat at the table, holding a photograph. On his cell phone, he played the song 'Little Girl Blue' by Janis Joplin. With a faltering voice, he sang while gently touching the photograph. “What else, what else is there to do? “

The sadness of his soul was almost tangible. For a long time, he had tried to feel the company of others, but he could not. People were like a breeze, the sensation of human contact was momentary. He wanted a lasting sensation that would shake his heart and make him scream in frenzy. “My unhappy oh little girl, little girl blue, yeah.”

On the table was a bottle of whiskey and a glass with ice. There was also an ashtray with many cigarette butts. During those nights, the only thing that calmed him down was a good drink and smoking, as well as the company of that old photograph. “Honey don't you know its time, I feel its time.”

Demian lit another cigarette and, while smoking, sang with passion as tears ran down his cheeks. He wiped his face, put out the cigarette and placed the photograph of his only love face down on the table. “Its gonna feel just like those raindrops do.”

The weather was warm, but he rubbed his hands trying to warm himself. No matter what he did, he always felt cold. He stood up and went on singing. “Honey have you got to do.”

As he walked, he dropped his shirt on the floor. Half naked, he stood in front of the window. The room was on the eighth floor, giving him a panoramic view of the city. A view that only brought back bad memories. “And I know you feel that you must be through.”

While he was still singing, he approached the sofa and pulled something like a handkerchief from his jacket. He covered part of his face with it, then passed it across his chest to the rhythm of the song. He stood in front of the window again, and the moonlight illuminated that horrible scene.

The handkerchief was made of human skin. The different cuts were joined by careless stitches, which easily could be seen. He sang the last sentence of the song with pain. “Baby, I know just how you feel.” A tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled bitterly.

Demian held the handkerchief firmly against his body. It seemed to be the only thing that made him feel warm. His expression said it all.

The first rays of sunshine bathed the city. Grey tones were slowly fading.

On the bench of a park was the naked body of a woman covered by pages of newspapers. A gentle breeze blew the paper away and the woman was exposed. She was lying on her left side. Her left arm and leg had been severed.

The breeze kept stirring her long black hair.

The twelfth murder of the 'Butcher of the East' had come at the worst time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
I want to thank everyone who is reading the fic. It means a lot to me ♥‿♥  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

A woman was running down an alley. She tried to escape, but she only followed the path the man had traced. The narrow alley full of cardboard boxes and a large dumpster slowed down her pace. The woman has nowhere to run. It was a dead end.

Her eye makeup was all over her face. Her tears were visible thanks to the eyeliner.

She was panting so hard that she had to cover her mouth with both hands. But hiding next to the dumpster didn't work as she expected. A male hand grabbed her blond hair and pulled her out from her hiding place.

Her screams were too loud.

“Don't make this harder, okay?” Demian covered the woman's mouth with her hand while he still grabbed her hair. He glanced sideways to make sure no one approached and could do what he wanted with her.

“Some people are always wondering how they are going to die. I'm going to save you the trouble.” He placed both hands on her slender neck and began to strangle her.

His eyes were full of ecstasy. It was difficult for him to bond with someone, but by killing them, he could glimpse how it felt to be emotionally attached.

“I really need your skin. Every day is getting colder and colder that I can’t bear it anymore.”

The woman’s choking sounds were slowly fading. The whites of her eyes were more prominent as time went by.

Demian was taken by surprise when he heard the sound of footsteps in the quiet alley. His grip loosened as the sound of footsteps grew closer. Suddenly it stops. He turns his head only to face an old acquaintance.

“Hello, Demian.” Hannibal watched him with an amused expression. “It looks like you just came back to continue with your favorite pastime.”

He released the woman. She fell to the ground and began to cough slightly. Demian muttered, looking down at the pavement. He was so shocked that his mind went blank. But he could remain somewhat calm, thanks to his tic.

“I heard you were in Japan all those years”—he got no answer—“How is Lady Murasaki? What did she tell you about me?” He gave him a cold look.

Demian approached Hannibal. His way of walking made his nervousness obvious. “You’re going to pay for what you did to me. I know who your weakness is.” He walked away. Facing Hannibal for the first time felt like a breath of fresh air. He felt triumphant.

The woman crawled towards Hannibal. “Please, help me.” Her voice was husky.

He leaned down and looked at her with repugnance. He placed his hands on both sides of her head, and in a blink of an eye, he broke her neck.

The whole situation angered him.

**\-------------------------------------------**

Camera flashes flooded the crime scene.

Jack was stood there, just watching the body of the woman lying on that bench. He felt guilty. He put everything aside for Hannibal, forgetting about his other cases. Crawford stared at the young woman, her skin was bluish and her veins were so visible that they looked like spiders making their way through her whole body.

Zeller was examining the body alongside a special team. It was apparent that Purnell no longer trusted them and now they had to work with strangers. “The killer injected something in her neck.“ Zeller’s voice made Jack come back to his senses. All he could do was nod, the pressure of guilt was devastating.

The mortuary people were preparing the body bag. Each movement of the girl's body echoed in his ears. It was almost as if the girl blamed him for her death. A chill came down his spine. He had that same feeling when the Chesapeake Ripper’s murders were unsolved.

Before he wandered into his thoughts, his cell phone rang. It was Kade Purnell.

“Yes. I’m on my way.” He knew what that call means. In a few hours, he arrived at Quantico and went straight to Purnell’s office.

Kade was in the middle of reviewing some documents. Her office was huge, with the most luxurious furniture any office could have. Jack knocked on the door. Seeing it, the woman began to lecture him. “What’s the meaning of this, Jack?” She threw on her desk a file full of pictures of the woman in the park.

“It was the twelfth murder of the Butcher.” He was trying to remain as calm as he could.

Her temper was rising by the second. The man's comments sounded like a mockery of her authority. “Come on, Jack! I’m asking why this case is still unsolved after four years.” The woman kept shouting everything he already knew.

He felt like a little boy scolded by his mother and grinned at the idea.

“Is it funny that people die because of your incompetence?” She crossed her arms. Purnell knew how to get on his nerves.

Jack cleared his throat. He didn't want to hear any more grievances, all he wanted was to get out of that office. “Of course, it's not funny. If you excuse me, I have a job to do.” He went to the door.

When she saw he was leaving, she pulled a wanted sign off her desk. “One more thing, forget about looking for Graham as if he were a victim. He is already on the list of the most wanted.” She threw the sign over the desk for Jack to see.

His jaw tightened, and his eyes grew large. “What?” He could barely pronounce that.

“As I said before, he's Lecter's accomplice. He's just faking this whole kidnapping thing.” She took some files and started stacking them.

The slow change in the air around him tensed his whole body. “Please, you can’t do that,” his voice had an annoyed edge. He couldn't understand why she loathed Will that much. He had only been in jail because Hannibal set him up. And yet Purnell still suspected him, despite his innocence.

Purnell met his gaze defiantly. “Too late. His photograph will be spread all over the country in a couple of hours.”

No matter how much Jack tried to persuade her to change her mind, the woman was determined to apprehend Will.

That evening, Hannibal was in his office with Miriam. For more than four years, that place had become their meeting point. A crystal chandelier illuminated the office. However, the light was dim and created a sinister gloom on their faces.

“You are doing a magnificent job.” The superiority he emanated before her was overwhelming.

“Thank you.” Her shrugged shoulders made clear that the man's presence created the result he desired.

“How is everything in the FBI going with Crawford?” Every movement, every word, was designed to make an impact on the woman. The meticulousness of his acts was superb. It was like witnessing a work of art in progress.

“He keeps suspecting that I am with you.” She was attracted to him. Not sexually, it was something that transcended any human instinct.

Hannibal was delighted to see the level of control he possessed over her. Nothing was more pleasing to him than contemplate his oeuvre, assuming the form he desired. “Good Jack, always aware of everything”—he smiled with arrogance—“I have a new job for you. If you still want to contribute to me —.

Every job he asked her to do filled her with happiness. She believed that if she won his trust, maybe one day, he would let her be by his side. Although she knew that would never happen because someone else occupied that place in his life. “Of course, I will help you with everything you need. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have managed to get out of that abyss.”

“I need you to talk to Demian Sutton.” The time had arrived, all the pieces were in place. Finally, he was able to execute the plan he had been preparing for so many years. The joy he felt was such that a smile was inevitable. He could not wait to see the result. His greatest oeuvre was about to conclude.

Her gaze made her confusion clear. “The doctor who was treating Graham?”

“Yes. I need you to become close to him and discover what he is plotting against me.” He crossed his legs. And he looked at her as if she were one of his patients.

“I can kidnap him as I did with everyone else,” she said in her cold and calm voice.

He smiled at her. “No. With him, we must use more elegant methods. He is special.”

She knew she only had to act as he indicated without asking unnecessary questions. “I understand.”

Miriam went to the door, but Hannibal stopped her. “And don't forget the other matter. It's an imperative problem that must be solved today,” he said with a serious tone.

After she left Hannibal's office, in one of the many corridors of the mansion, she ran into Will. However, she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice his presence. “Hi Miriam,” he said as he put all his weight on the crutches.

The woman looked at him from top to bottom. His health seemed to have improved since his appearance was better than in those photographs published by Freddie Lounds. “Hi.”

Will tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. It had been so long that he hadn't cut it off that it already covered his eyes. Then he fixed his gaze on Miriam again. “So all this time you were with Hannibal.”

She loathed giving explanations. But this time, she was willing to go through the trouble. “He saved me. It's the least I can do for him.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Did he save you? From what? From himself?” He couldn't understand her. Hannibal had been the perpetrator of her kidnapping, which lasted more than two years.

Not a single one of her words made sense.

She looked upset. “You’d never understand it.”

He clenched his crutches. No matter how much he fought, his empathy stabbed him in the back again. “Are you betraying Jack for him?” He averted his gaze, but it was too late.

“As you did. We all betray to be close to Hannibal. Even ourselves.” Those words inflicted great pain on her, making Will feel a terrible chill. At that moment, he realized that nothing and no one would be able to persuade her.

“You're wrong, but when you find out it will be too late,” he spoke from his own experience.

Miriam looked down on him. She couldn't believe that Hannibal was so fond of a person who didn't value him at all. “You know you don't deserve anything from him. And even then, you'll be the only one who will have it all.” After she said that, she walked down the huge hallway.

Will experienced everything she truly felt for Hannibal. At times like that, he wished his empathy had a switch so he could turn it off when he needed it.

The next morning, Will was looking for Hannibal. This time he was willing to get answers.

He was sitting by the fireplace, reading a book that had nothing written on the cover. It was black with golden edges. The pages were already worn out and yellowish. It seemed to be a very important book because of the way he treated it. He had a notebook on the coffee table, in which Einstein field equations had been written.

His reading was abruptly interrupted. “Where’s Bedelia?” Will had been walking around the mansion. It was so hot that he was carrying his sweater on his forearm.

Hannibal closed his book and put it on his lap. “She is resting.” He took the notebook and finished the equations he had pending.

It had only been for days since Will arrived at that house. Since the first day, he didn't know how he must deal with his feelings. They were filling him with so many doubts that he wasn't sure if he should keep listening to them.

He felt the warmth of a home he had always wanted, although he was not sure of anything. He was divided between having to be righteous or surrender to what his heart asked.

“What did you do to her?” However, selfishness was not part of him.

He smiled when he noticed Will's obvious inner struggle. “Come here. This is going to help you with the rehabilitation of your upper extremities.”

He knew it was futile to try to obtain the information he was unwilling to share. He sighed heavily and left his sweater on the back of one of the chairs. “Playing the piano?”

“That's right. There is no better way to exercise your hands. The piano is a majestic way to stimulate ligaments and muscles. In addition to helping with bone stiffness.” He looked at the piano with nostalgia. It seemed to evoke memories he preferred to keep to himself. Will could feel his nostalgia, but he preferred not to delve too deeply into his feelings.

Hannibal gave him a score. “I can't see something so small, and I don't have my glasses.“ He squinted as he tried to read the sheet. But his attempts were in vain because he couldn't see anything.

“Don't worry about it I had special glasses made for you.” On the coffee table where he had his notebook was a case.

Will was surprised because the glasses had the right prescription. “I see Miriam is good at researching.”

She is very efficient. Now I understand why Jack appreciated her so much,” —he grinned slightly—“Do you have any experience with the piano?” He approached the piano and played the first notes of a composition of his own.

Hannibal took the crutches and left them on the nearest wall while Will was sitting on the bench.

“A little, although I haven't practiced in many years.” He played the first notes of chopsticks.

“Did you play the piano in your childhood?” He was intrigued.

Will stopped playing the piano and lifted his face so he could see him in the eyes. “Yes, a neighbor taught me to play some pieces.” A longing smile gave a different light to his face. A light he had never shown before.

“It looks like that neighbor was someone special, as far as I can tell.” They both looked at each other. The tension between them grew fast.

There was a lot they wanted to say, but they limited the number of words exchanged between them. Even so, their glances were uncontrollable. Their silences said so much that it was unbelievable that these men could express so much with only a single sight.

Will felt pain in his leg. It had been so many days since he had pain that he almost forgot about it. He tried not to pay attention and continued the conversation. “Yes, he taught me about boats and fishing. I became a cop for him, and also, for him, I’m still alive.” He accidentally revealed more to him than he had thought.

“Sounds like he was almost a father to you.” He wanted to learn more about his past, but he didn't want to force him. He preferred to wait until he brought up the subject.

“Kind of like that. But I prefer not to continue talking about my past.” He wasn't very fond of talking about himself. He felt uncomfortable.

“Does anyone else know about this part of your life?” The mere idea that someone knew him more intimately bothered him. He looked at him, hoping he'd deny it.

He arranged his glasses and looked carefully at the score. “No. You are the first to know something about my childhood.” He turned the sheet around, not before looking at him from the corner of his eye.

He felt reassured. He refused to share anything concerning Will. “Good. Now let's start with the lesson.” A smile of satisfaction brought his face to life. “I had this lesson prepared for Abigail, but I guess it would work for you too.”

That name opened old wounds in Will's heart. Although he had forgiven Hannibal for killing her. He still couldn't get over his death. “And yet you killed her.” His expression changed.

Without delay, he answered. “No, you killed her. Your betrayal killed her. You know, this place would have been our home, but you preferred to abandon us for your so-called justice.” He remembers it vividly, that was the second time in his life a betrayal had hurt him so deeply.

Suddenly Abigail appeared next to Hannibal. A huge smile illuminated her face. It was only an instant, but that was enough for Will to feel a heaviness in his chest that made him pant a couple of times. “Please, don't talk about her again.”

No matter how hard he tried, the tears began to wet his face. The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of Hannibal, but he couldn't help it. The thought that if he had made another decision, his life would be different, filled him with sorrow. Maybe at that moment, the three of them would be living together, far from the world that wanted to separate them. But in the end, he helped to make the family he wanted so badly disappear.

Hannibal embraced him. He knew exactly how he was feeling. His warmth and essence filled Will's senses. “I'll make sure they never tear us apart. I promise.”

After several procedures, the place to protect Trevor Reed was ready. Kade Purnell called several officers, and three groups were established to monitor different areas. The perimeter wouldn't be left unguarded at any time.

Inside, Price and Zeller had everything ready to receive their new patient. In a few hours, the man was transferred, with all possible discretion. But what they did not know was that Hannibal had ears everywhere, and his location would not remain secret for long.

Zeller got into the room after talking to the officer in charge of the operation. “How are his vital signs?”

Price was sat nearby the patient. When he saw his partner come in, he stood up. “Good, I suppose. The monitor has not made a long beep.”

Zeller had a quizzical expression. “Are you relying on a beep to know his health status?” He couldn't believe a specialist in the field would behave worse than an intern.

He crossed his arms and sat down again. “Listen, Brian. I have only been responsible for dealing with corpses for years. I forgot how a living patient is treated.” Jimmy couldn't believe he didn't understand that it wasn't easy to do something he hadn't practiced in years.

Several hours passed. They took turns to check on their patient. The order was to maintain total control over his health so they could notice even the slightest change. That way, they could fill out the ridiculous report that Kade Purnell had given them.

Without realizing it, the evening had come. Jimmy was staring at the gun he had left on a small table near the bed. “Hey, who's going to use the gun that Jack gave us?” He looked at his colleague with doubt.

Zeller was reading a computer magazine, and without looking away, he replied. “Who has the opportunity?”

He couldn't believe the coldness of his words. If they used the weapon, they could take a person's life. He walked around the room a couple of times. He approached the table and looked at the gun again. “It will have to be you. I've never shot, and I won't do it now.”

Zeller put his magazine on the table. “And what are you going to do to protect yourself if someone attacks us?”

“Of course, I thought I would need a weapon, that's why I brought this.” He opened his jacket and drew a scalpel as if it were a sword.

Zeller looked at him with his mouth open. He couldn't believe that Price would be serious about it. “A scalpel? Really? Do you think you are Hannibal Lecter?” He laughed at his own words.

He kept the scalpel back in his jacket. “Of course not. I would never eat human flesh.” He couldn't help but grimace in terror at the idea of eating a human being.

“Now that I think about it, he never invited us to dinner. How rude,” he said mockingly.

“It's the first time I'm glad I was ignored.”

It was supper time, and again Bedelia was not present. Will began to feel uncomfortable because of her absence. He felt he had to do something to protect her, but his head was not very useful at that moment. Everything seemed like a dream to him. He even thought that he had never woken up from the coma, and he was still in the hospital connected to all of those devices.

Suddenly Hannibal's cell phone rang.

“Excuse me.” He stood up and went to the next room. “Alright, I'll take care of that.” It was evident from his gaze that it had not been a pleasant call. He returned to the table and finished his supper. After eating, he hurried to the room to change his clothes.

Will went to the hall with the piano to practice. Soon Hannibal appeared, his selection of clothes surprised him because he had never seen him dressed like that. A pair of black jeans and a black leather jacket were the clothes he wore whenever he rode his motorcycle.

“I have to leave.” He ran his hand over his hair a couple of times.

“Where are you going?” He took his crutches and got up from the piano bench.

He pulled some black gloves out of the jacket and shook them against his leg several times. “Uncle Jack is giving us some problems. I have to solve them myself.” His eyes were like two black holes staring at nothing. He breathed so slowly that his chest could be seen rising. Something was not right, his actions were different.

Will looked at him as he pursed his lips. “You won't do anything to him?”

When he finished putting on his gloves, he approached him. His gait was like that of a beast stalking its prey. “I don’t know, Will. I’m quite displeased for the kidney transplant. I'm not happy that you have his essence.”

“You're serious?” Slight spasms made him look the other way. Hannibal stretched one hand towards him, gently touching his cheek as he looked at him. His expression was so honest that Will felt intimidated.

“I'm always serious when it comes to you.” He lowered his hand slowly to his elbow. Will followed with his gaze the hand that touched him so delicately. As he lifted his face, he was inches away from Hannibal's face.

The spasms returned, but this time a hand stopped his face from moving. A strange sensation in his stomach grew slowly. Part of him wanted to get away, but another wanted to stay by the man's side forever.

His crutches fell to the floor, but thanks to the piano he could still stand. Instinctively he held onto the shoulders of Hannibal, who kept looking at him. As he brought his face closer to him, Will turned his head quickly.

“You said you have to leave.” Will's heart was beating so fast that all he wanted was for him to walk away so he wouldn't notice.

Hannibal helped him get to the piano bench. When Will sat down, he kissed him on the forehead and ruffled his hair. “Be a good boy in my absence.” Before leaving, he left the crutches nearby so he could stand up.

In that precise moment, Jack was on his way to where Trevor was.

A suspicious car had been circling the area, and he wasn't willing to take any chances. He wanted to see for himself that everything was in order.

On the way, he received a call from Miriam. He took the call on the speaker.

“Guru, it’s me.” Her voice was shaking. It was as if she were crying.

He had mixed feelings for the woman. He said nothing, just kept driving. He didn't know if it was right to treat her as a criminal or as another victim.

“I know you suspect me.” When Jack heard that, he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I want you to know that I've always admired you, and I'm doing what's right for me.”

Jack stopped the car dry. The tires made a horrible squeaking sound.

After a long pause, she kept talking. “I have to kill to survive in this horrible world.” He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

At that point, he realized she was confessing to him that she was going to kill Reed. He reacted and shouted at the woman. “No, please don't!” The call was over. Jack hit the steering wheel several times. The sound of the horn and his screams of frustration echoed loudly on the desolate road.

He quickly tried to call her again, but the cell phone was off. He tried to call the officer in charge of surveillance, but the call didn't connect. It seemed he couldn't communicate with anyone in the building.

He started the car and speeded up, hoping to get there on time.

Zeller and Price continued their uninterrupted duty. The two men were exhausted and about to fall asleep. Their magazines and books could no longer keep them awake. And the conversation topics had run out, or rather they no longer had the spirit to chat.

Brian got up, trying to keep awake. He stretched both arms and made a few movements with his neck. He was trying to get rid of the stiffness that was leaving him from sitting in one position.

“I'm going to get some coffee, do you want some?” he yawned.

Jimmy rubbed his eyes, and a little sleepy, he replied. “Yes, black without sugar, please.”

When he left the room, he didn't notice that someone was hiding in the hallway.

After a small fight with the coffeemaker, he returned with two cups of coffee. “I'm not good at making coffee, but…”

A person wearing a balaclava pointed a gun at Jimmy in the head.

Near the place where they were protecting Trevor, Freddie was leaving a hotel room. She was lodging ten minutes from where Trevor was being surveilled by the FBI. A reliable source had revealed the exact location.

“Yes, I'm on my way right now.” One of her contacts seemed to have privileged information about the Butcher's last murder.

When she got to the underground parking lot, she saw a man on a motorcycle in front of her car. She paid no attention and went on her way. As she was about to open the door, the man got off the motorcycle and took off his helmet.

“Hello, Miss Lounds. I heard you are selling my past.” A powerful aura emanated from the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!  
This chapter was a bit slow because the real tension is about to begin (⌬̀⌄⌬́)  
I hope you enjoyed it, even a little.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

Hannibal's presence surprised her. She could feel a chill concentrating on her lower back that went up to her spine. It did so slowly that she could feel it run through each of her vertebrae. The cold concentrated in the back of her head, where it flooded her head.

She turned around, trying to think about how she should react. Her life depended on that. “What a surprise, Dr. Lecter? Or may I call you Hannibal the cannibal?” She didn't understand how she dared to tell him such a thing. It seemed that she owed that to journalism, to be able to show the right face as each situation merited.

Hannibal looked at her with contempt. He was upset. One of the things he valued most was his privacy, as there were details he preferred to keep to himself. And that woman was stealing his peace from him.

“Do you think you can do as you please?” his voice was different, emanated danger.

Freddie placed his bag in front of her and put both hands inside discreetly. She took her cell phone and called Crawford, and activated the loudspeaker, hoping for luck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She maintained her posture, knowing that she should not be weak in front of him.

Hannibal took his helmet with one hand and approached her. “Don’t play the fool with me, Miss Lounds. How much about my past do you know?” He stopped when he was a couple of yards away from her.

She felt like her legs were weakening. She didn't know how much more she would be able to remain calm. “Just as much as any Tattlecrime reader”.

He grinned. If something amused him, it was that people thought he could be deceived. “The ant that lifts the largest crumbs may end up crushed by one,” he enunciated the last words slowly, emphasizing each one.

Despite the lump in her throat, she was able to maintain her haughtiness. “Are you going to crush me?”

“Perhaps.” He took her by the arm and snatched her cell phone. Instinctively the woman stretched out her hand to retrieve it. All action on her part was in vain. Hannibal looked at the screen, the name that appeared made him frown. He threw the device to the ground with disdain and then stepped on it with rage.

When Jack arrived at the designated place, the tires of his car left a mark on the pavement. He looked around and saw an ambulance at the entrance to the building. His heartbeat was hard. The worst seemed to have happened. He got out of the car and approached in a hurry. It was evident that Miriam had executed her plan.

Zeller was by the entrance. His face was pale, languid. No matter how much Jack questioned him, the man could not articulate a single word. Suddenly he screamed at the top of his lungs. It was a scream full of pain and frustration. It seemed that such an action had taken some of the heaviness that overwhelmed him.

He cleared his throat and looked at Jack. “Jimmy got shot, and I couldn't do anything,” his voice was shaken.

“How is he?” He expected the worst. He knew better than anyone how good Miriam was at shooting.

“I don’t know. They said I was too shocked and dragged me out.” Zeller had never been so distressed before. He even thought that if Jimmy saw him that way, he would make fun of him.

“Were you able to recognize who did it?”

He tried to remember, but he couldn't. He was still in shock. “No, it was too fast. The only thing I remember is the sound of the shot.”

Before he could do anything, his cell phone rang.

“Hello?” His eyes widened. Hannibal's voice froze him. He immediately approached the officer in charge of the operation. “I need you to track this number.”

In a few minutes, Jack was heading to the place in the company of two patrols. When they arrived, the officers surrounded the area, and Crawford headed for the parking lot. He took the elevator. Every second was eternal. After four long years, he would finally face him again.

When Hannibal saw him arrive, he grabbed the woman by the neck and turned her around quickly. He brought his body closer to hers to make sure she couldn't escape. Freddie was in shock. “Hello, Jack. We were waiting for you.”

“Hello, Hannibal.” He moved steadily towards them. It was the fourth time they'd seen each other. Their cat and mouse game seemed to have no end.

“Miss Lounds has arranged such a warming reunion, don’t you think?” He pulled a small knife out of his jacket and ran it over the woman's cheek.

He wanted to pull out his gun and shoot him in the head, but he couldn't jeopardize Freddie. Although he thought it would be a justified sacrifice, as she had mentioned before, a sacrifice that would save hundreds of people. “Just let her go.”

Their glances erupted in fire. They looked like wild beasts waiting for the right moment to attack. Their rivalry had led them to face each other on a couple of occasions. Until now, the score had been a draw.

“And you’ll let me go with Will?” His body looked tense. In moments he held the knife so tightly that his knuckles turned completely yellow.

His jaw moved slightly to both sides. The pain in his neck began to rise slowly to his head. “Where is he?”

“He is with me. Where he belongs.” He wrinkled his nose. An acid scent began to bother him. That smell was coming from Freddie, from her fear.

Jack made fun of him. His laughter spread all over the place. “He isn’t your property.”

That deployment bothered him enough. If anything irritated him, it was that somebody made fun of him. “Nor yours. But you always acted as if he were your possession. A special tool you used in the most atrocious situations, without thinking about his well-being.” His gaze was lifeless. His eyes looked like two black holes.

That conversation was a battle of power. They were fighting with their minds. They had to stay afloat because whoever wins, would have a better chance of leaving that shabby parking lot unharmed.

Jack crossed his arms, letting one of his hands sit close to his hip. Near his weapon. “Are you worried about his well-being?”

“Of course, I do. He is precious to me.” The intonation of his words was so vigorous that it instilled fear.

He squeezed his jaw. He couldn't believe that the man's words still overpowered him. “Don’t lie. You don’t care for him, that’s why you destroyed his life.”

“Same as you. Both of us are culprits of that sin.” His face showed nothing but displeasure. It bothered him that he talked about Will.

Jack decided to provoke him. It was a risky move, but there was also the possibility that if he was upset, he’d make a mistake. “Release him.” At that moment, he put his life and Freddie's on the line.

“You think you know him, but you’re wrong. This is the beginning of the closing scene. And we will be together, that’s how it ends.” His words were infused with security. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was his future with Will.

Jack couldn't believe the confidence he radiated, especially when he knew he was surrounded by the police. “He is going to do the right thing. You know that.”

Hannibal was angry. He hated that Will had that smell in him. He hated that his mind was in chaos and because of that he was fighting against his true self. And Jack was responsible for all of that. He had shattered what he loved most.

“I just know that I’m angry because you not only got in his body but also his head.”

“And thanks to you, Will is on the most wanted list.” His face only showed anger.

When he heard that, he mocked. “That's a great achievement. Now we can run away together.”

With the tip of the knife, he made a small incision in the woman's cheek. A thin red line ran down her face to her neck. Jack held his gun, but before he could pull it out of his coat, Hannibal began to slit the woman's throat. The knife penetrated his skin easily. The woman's eyes opened so wide that it looked like they were going to come out of their sockets. Her pale skin was bathed in red. Spurts of blood splashed on the floor, and the whites of her eyes became increasingly prominent.

Jack pointed at Hannibal's head. He had to act or, on the contrary, Freddie would die. “Get down!” Without waiting for the woman's reaction, he shot.

The bullet ripped out part of his right ear lobe. Hannibal lost his balance and released Freddie. The cut on her neck only went halfway. Without delay, Jack fired again. This time he shot at the height of his right shoulder blade.

She was lying on the floor. Blood flooded her trachea, and she began to choke on her fluids. Jack had no choice but to help her. Without knowing what to do, he just lifted the woman's head a little and pressed on the wound.

Jack looked at both ways. There was no one there. He knew he had to act immediately because such an opportunity would not come again. But there was a problem, going looking for him meant leaving Freddie to her fate.

“Hannibal!” he screamed hysterically.

Suddenly the engine of a motorcycle broke the silence. Jack took his gun and fired until he ran out of bullets. It was useless. The man had fled as usual.

The gunshots attracted some of the officers. “I need an ambulance!”

Sirens.

Jack had sent the cops to follow him.

Hannibal clenched his jaw and kept driving, accelerating as much as the motorcycle allowed. The roar of the engine was perfectly attuned to his heart rate. He knew the way like the back of his hand. Before stepping into that place, he had studied every corner of the city. He always came to various reasoning. That's why he was prepared every time for any inconvenience.

He got to an alley, turned off the motorbike, and got off. He was exhausted and bleeding out. The blood from his ear had reached his back. And the blood from the chest wound had reached his hip. He felt so dirty that he clicked his tongue in anger.

He leaned against the wall and looked up at the sky. The night seemed to be guiding him. He could feel his stars shining brightly. After a few minutes, the city was once again immersed in silence. Hannibal put on his helmet and headed home. He had to heal his wounds and return with Will.

When he got home, he staggered at the entrance creating a big noise. Will continued to practice piano. It seemed like it was becoming his new hobby. But his lesson was abruptly interrupted by that sound. He took his crutches and went to find out what had happened.

Hannibal leaned on the door, and at his feet was a shredded vase. Will looked at him disconcerted. “What happened?”

He smiled when he saw him. His mere presence filled him with tranquility. “Just an inconvenient.”

When he moved to close the door, a few drops of blood were left on the floor. Will was surprised and approached him as quickly as he could. “You're hurt.” His concern reverberated in the small hallway.

“Think of me. Think of me, Will. Don’t worry about me.” After he said that, he caressed his cheek vehemently.

“Why you always said that?” He frowned. He couldn't understand those words.

“To live in your palace, as you live in mine.” The pain in his chest made his smile disappeared. “In my office, I have a case full of medical instruments and other things. Bring it, please.”

Hannibal went to the piano hall. He took off his jacket before entering. He didn't want to ruin an Aubusson rug with bloodstains. He sat near the fireplace. A long sigh took some of the weight off him.

“Here's the stuff you asked me for.” His hands, as well as his voice, trembled.

The wound was in an inaccessible place for him to treat it himself. “I’m going to tell you what to do. You must follow my instructions precisely.”

“But my…” He lifted one of his hands and looked at it gloomily.

Hannibal held his hand and gently kissed it. “Your hands have nothing wrong. Trust me.”

Will just nodded.

He took a pair of scissors and gave them to him. “First, cut the shirt.”

Will placed the other chair close so that he could sit next to him. He grabbed the scissors and began to cut the shirt meticulously. He remembered how he did it when they were in Italy. Each cut brought back memories to him. They were so vivid that it seemed that everything that had happened was reliving. Several of his lost memories returned one by one.

“Now hand me that bottle.” Hannibal's voice brought him to his senses.

In small quantities, he applied the liquid to the wound to remove the blood. His face showed how painful it was. Will turned his face. All those memories had saturated his mind. He felt that his head would explode.

“With the tweezers, take out the bullet.” He got no answer. Will was immersed in his thoughts. “Something wrong?” Hannibal shook his shoulder a little.

“No, is nothing”—he held the tweezers and looked frightened at the hole in his skin—“I can’t do it. What if I hurt you?”

Hannibal knew something was wrong with him. His behavior showed that something was not right. “I’ll guide your hands, don’t worry.”

Will got ready to extract the bullet. He moved his head closer to his chest and could see some of the metal. It seemed that the bullet was not very deep.

At that moment, Hannibal was looking at him. He analyzed each one of his gestures. He wished to know what had just happened to him.

The tweezers came into contact with his skin. Will hesitated and stopped. Hannibal held his hand and encouraged him to continue. The tips of the tweezers slowly entered his body.

A pungent pain seized his body, all he could do was squeeze his eyes. The tweezers moved from side to side. But he was not afraid. Not only did he entrust his body to him, but his mind also belonged to Will.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and then put the bullet on a handkerchief that was on the coffee table. They both looked into each other's eyes and smiled.

“All that's left to do is to sew up.”

Will grabbed the needle and started sewing it slowly. The wound pulsed so much that the pain of the needle piercing his skin was minimal.

Hannibal went to the bedroom to take a shower. He wanted to get rid of that sticky feeling from his body. He took off his clothes and went to the bathroom. The drops felt so heavy on his body that tiredness invaded him.

When he got out of the shower, he put on his pajamas. His still wet hair was stuck to his forehead. He ruffled it slightly, trying to dry it.

“You should rest,” Will's voice shuddered him.

Hannibal walked to the balcony. “No, the night is beautiful, and I want to share this view with you.” He stretched out his hand to invite him to join.

The man approached him slowly. “It’s a starry night.” He looked up at the sky in fascination.

“Orion is above the horizon now and near it Jupiter, brighter than it will ever be… but I expect you can see it too. Some of our stars are the same.” His glances met. The tension between them could be felt. It was almost palpable.

His leg began to hurt. He clenched the handles of the crutches, trying to ease the pain. However, that pain no longer stopped him, because now he not only thought about him, he also felt him. And he wasn't willing to put anything aside. “Do you think we are the same?”

He moved closer and grabbed him by the shoulder effusively. “I think you're the perfect companion for me.”

A smile so thin that it easily went unnoticed was Will's answer.

Sometimes he hated that his thoughts were incapable of becoming sound. His disorder was the culprit. He was not allowed to say anything without first digging into other people's minds. And the few times he managed to say something, his mouth distorted his thoughts, or people misunderstood him. Hannibal, however, was the only person who knew how to listen to his silences.

“You know, Will, my life is like the infinite of the universe. An indescribable place that intrigues thousands, yet nobody understands.” His gaze fixed again on the firmament.

The breeze stirred his hair slightly. He winked a couple of times as he felt the stinging in his eyes. “You're not easy to understand.” When he finished speaking, he insistently ran his fingers through his hair.

Hannibal stared at him captivated. Not even the most gorgeous of skies awakened in him such strong feelings. A simple wink was enough to seduce him. “Only the right person will find a way to my mind palace. And for a long time, you have lived there.”

“In our shared rooms?” Hannibal's hand went down his arm to find his wrist. The warmth of his hand made Will shudder.

“Everywhere.”

In the hospital, everyone was waiting for Price to come out of the operating room. Alana and Margot were in the cafeteria buying coffee for everyone. Zeller was still leaning against a wall with a blank stare. While Jack was standing next to him.

Freddie was in a private room under the influence of sedatives. The wound in her neck hadn't been serious. A couple of FBI officers watched the room. This time, Jack was going to control the situation, even if he had to go against Purnell's orders.

Suddenly Miriam appeared.

“I came as soon as I heard. Is he still in surgery?” Her breathing was agitated as if she had run a long distance.

Jack grabbed her arm and took her away from Zeller.

He checked that there was no one around. He didn't want anyone to listen to them. “Miriam, we need to talk about the call. You have much to explain.”

The woman didn't understand what he was talking about. Her confusion was genuine. “Which call, Guru?”

When Jack saw her reaction, he decided not to insist. Something strange was going on, and he preferred to consult with Alana before making a false move. He let go of her arm, even though part of him wanted to force her to tell the truth.

“Forget it. Forget it. I'm confused by all of this. I'm sorry.” He smiled languidly. He was not satisfied, he hated not getting immediate answers.

“Don't worry about it. Everybody's a little tense.” The woman smiled kindly. An act that made Crawford even more uncomfortable.

The situation created an unbearable atmosphere. Everyone was silent as if they were strangers. The only sounds were Crawford's footsteps, who kept walking the narrow corridor over and over again.

An hour later, the doctor came out to give the report. When he was close, everyone gathered around him. “The surgery was complicated. We had to induce him into a coma to avoid further complications.”

Zeller moved near the doctor. He needed answers and, without hesitation, asked what bothered him. “How is he? Is he alive?”

Everyone's attention was on the doctor.

“The surgery went well, but we'll only know if it was a success when he wakes up.”

Alana hugged Zeller. He was so dismayed by the situation that some tears rolled down his cheeks.

Jack walked away with the doctor down the hall. He needed to tell him the protocol they should follow because FBI officials would protect him and need space to move freely. Among other details of the operation.

After a few minutes, Jack returned to tell them the doctor's instructions. “I've just been informed that only one person can stay. We'll have to decide...” Before he could finish talking, Zeller interrupted him.

“I want to stay,” his voice resounded softly.

“All right. Don't forget that you can contact me for anything, no matter how trivial it is.”

Only Jack went inside the room to see Jimmy. After a few minutes, he left, and Zeller prepared to go in.

When it was almost dawn, the first to leave the hospital was Miriam. Jack waited for her to get on the elevator to approach Alana. Generally speaking, he explained what he needed to talk to her about. Alana asked Margot to go to the parking lot with the bodyguard. When they were finally alone, he told her what had happened with Miriam.

“She called me and practically confessed the crime. When I mentioned it, just a moment ago, she acted as if it hadn't happened.” He hit his leg with his fist. Frustration overwhelmed him.

They both walked to the elevator. “Something must have triggered that action. She was in control of her mind for a short time and that's why she called you.”

Alana stopped unexpectedly and stood in front of Jack. “The best we can do is keep it a secret. We still need her.”

The man inhaled deeply through his nose. “I know she can lead us to where Hannibal hides, but no matter how many times she has been followed, no one can ever trace her to where Hannibal is.” It didn't matter how many solutions he'd try to come up with. Each of his assumptions always failed. He had nothing solid to rely on.

“I’m going to hire a detective. If he can't get any information on Hannibal's whereabouts. He'll help us to know Miriam's true intentions.” Alana pushed the elevator button.

“Is he going to be our scapegoat?” Jack looked confused.

“We must be willing to make any sacrifice.” The sound of the elevator opening marked the end of their conversation.

Hannibal and Will spent all of the night talking about literature, history, and things that didn't matter to them. However, sharing that moment was an experience that filled them. But the pain of the wound forced him to take some analgesics. They were so strong that he had to go to sleep.

Will went to his bedroom but couldn't stop thinking about Bedelia. After he had made sure Hannibal was asleep, he decided to go upstairs.

When he was home alone, the piano absorbed him so much that he forgot that he had to look for her. Sometimes he hated that part of his personality that made him alienate himself from completing an activity. But now that Hannibal was sleeping because of the analgesics, it was the best time to do so.

Will stood in front of the stairs. He was afraid. Just seeing the stairs was horrible. He felt so helpless that it made him angry. After much meditation, he went up the steps calmly. As he continued to go up, he could feel the sweat running down his face and back.

Vertigo. He never thought he could experience that fear, especially since he was only on the fourth step of the stairs. After much effort and fighting his fears, he managed to climb to the second floor. There were four rooms, but only one had the door closed.

“Bedelia?” he whispered. Then he put his ear to the door to hear an answer.

A soft voice echoed across the door. “Is it you, Will?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m coming in.” He rushed into the room.

The woman sat on the bed. Her countenance was terrible. She was pale and had lost weight. Her cheekbones were so prominent that her face looked somewhat different. Her left arm fell to one side, motionless, where the IV was connected. The tube was bloody. Apparently, she had been moving her arm.

“Where’s Hannibal?” she asked weakly. Her throat seemed to hurt when she spoke.

“He is sleeping.” He was about to tell her about the wound. But he preferred to omit certain information.

She drank some water from a glass she had on the bedside table. The water seemed to irritate her as she swallowed it, her face twisted with every sip. “Listen carefully. He is brainwashing you”—she cleared her throat. It sounded rough and dry—“He wants to turn you into a killer, so you can hunt together.”

“What?” He knew Hannibal was doing something to his mind but didn't know he wanted to turn him into someone else.

Although deep down he doubted if the Will who was inhabiting him at the time was the real one.

“He wants you to embrace your true nature, or what he perceives as your true nature. If you don't want to become a killer like him, you need to leave.” Bedelia was worried. She wanted to save at least one person from the claws of the killer she supported for years.

The woman's despair crushed him. “What's going to happen to you?”

She looked at him with a certain longing. He could not believe that his acts of justice continued to prevail within him. “Don’t be a foolish boy and run away from here.”

Will left the room. At that moment, all he could think about was running away. He didn't know if he wanted to do it of his own volition or for Bedelia's. The coma was to blame for his mental issues. His mind was in chaos, and his empathy was out of control at levels he didn't even understand.

When he got to the door and took the doorknob, something stopped him. It was as if an inner force was paralyzing him. His arms lost strength, and he fell to the floor next to his crutches. He tried to get up, but it was useless. Dizziness left him lying down again.

Will turned his face and saw Hannibal squatting next to him. “You can't leave. I told you, nobody will tear us apart. Not even you.” Suddenly, everything went dark, and he lost consciousness.

He was back in his ostentatious room. While trying to sit on the bed, he felt someone's presence and turned as fast as he could. It was Hannibal. He was in bed reading that strange black book. And apparently, he had taken the trouble to get him into his pajamas.

“Why are we on the same bed?” He looked at him without understanding what was going on.

He closed his book and placed it on his lap. “Because it's convenient for me.” He stared at him closely, it was indisputable that something was troubling him. “Can't sleep?”

He put a hand on the back of his head. With soothing movements, he tried to alleviate the pain. “No, I feel some discomfort in the back of my head.”

Hannibal touched his forehead to make sure he didn't have a fever. He lowered his hand and looked at him affectionately. “It's a sequel of the coma. Therapy would help you put an end to those inconveniences.”

The mere mention of the word therapy reminded him of everything he had experienced in his office. That place where everything had begun. Where his life had taken such a radical turn that he couldn't be as he was before.

He looked down. He felt somewhat restless. “Alana was helping me... but you kidnapped me.” The sheets helped him to relax, as he kept rubbing them on his lap.

He caressed his cheek. “Technically, Frederick did it. About therapy, we can go back to where we left it.”

Will smiled. He couldn't believe that Hannibal was so straightforward all the time. Sometimes he envied that part of him. “No, thank you. I'm fine. The brainwashing to not leave this place is more than enough.”

Hannibal's hand was on his shoulder. Will wanted to hold it and tell him how he felt, but again doubts clouded his mind. He took his hand off his shoulder, he didn't want to obfuscate him more than necessary. But first, he put a lock behind his ear. Will trembled at the touch of their skins.

“Love leads us to commit the vilest and despicable acts.” He held his book tightly.

Will leaned on the soft pillows and closed his eyes. “I always thought love would be different, something humane. Now I see that it is quite different from what I imagined.”

“No tree, it is said, can grow to heavenunless its roots reach down to hell.” He knew better than anyone that hell was the place where everything began.

The sunlight illuminated a horrid scene. A man's naked body lay on the ground, over a pool of his blood. Demian was crouched beside him. With a scalpel in hand and with great precision, he removed the skin from both arms of the body. Each cut was so meticulous that the skin was easily separated from the muscles. His experience was unquestionable.

When he finished, he took the skin with care and placed it in hermetic containers.

A strange presence made Demian turn. “Goodnight, Bernard.”

The man stepped forward and bowed. “Goodnight, Mr. Sutton. Pardon me. Goodnight, Mr. Demian.”

Sutton gave him a pair of gloves and smiled. “That's better. Here's the body, now you can do your magic.”

Since his first murder, Bernard had helped him to cover up his murders.

The man approached the body and picked him up. The blood was getting dry, so it was already viscous. Part of the skin stuck to the floor. From his pocket, he pulled out an ice pick and began to break the humerus. The bone coming into contact with the metal created a strange and overwhelming squeaking sound.

When it was about to break, he stopped. With his hands, he began to separate the deltoid and the bicep. His strength was such that he easily tore the muscles to the bone. He rose to his feet and, after a couple of pulls and a horrific sound, ripped off the arm.

“You're very efficient. If it wasn't for you, long ago the FBI would have caught me.” He looked at the scene with delight. As if it were the greatest work of art.

His peaceful face was covered in his victim's blood. “Don't worry, sir. I’ll always be here to help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!
> 
> This chapter had lots of fluff, a different kind of fluff. I hope you enjoyed :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

Hannibal was awake long before the sun came up. The culprit was a stabbing pain that prevented him from sleeping. The missing part of his earlobe gave him a reason to meditate the whole night.

Will was still sleeping by his side, so he limited himself to just watching him closely. That human being had broken too many of his inner walls. In the past, that would have meant one more murder to his list, but this was not the case. Now he was fighting the world to be by his side.

Hannibal got out of bed with subtle movements, then went straight to the sink to wash his face. 

The slight squeaking of the faucet as it opened made him uncomfortable. He put his hands in the water stream and washed his face. When he looked up, the mere sight of his ear made him feel a wave of anger that burst deep inside him. His face dripping with water was terrifying. 

He slowly turned his face to the left to see the whole picture. The wound looked hideous to him. Although his eyes were fixed on the mirror, he was contemplating a distant place, a place where he would find vengeance.

He closed his eyes and broke the mirror with his fist. Small traces of blood ran down to the sink.

That morning began with those flickering lights, and a voice Will knew perfectly.

Will opened his eyes, and disoriented looked around. He felt a strange heaviness in his head as if his brain was swollen. He rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw Hannibal standing right in front of him.

“It’s the first time you came to your senses in the middle of a session.” He sat on the couch in front of Will. He crossed his legs and placed both hands on his knee.

Even with his eyes wide opened, he still saw those flickering lights. He leaned on the sofa and closed his eyes. As he opened them again, he saw a hallway, the same one he had dreamed of long ago. 

A dripping caught his attention. He walked down the hallway until something approaching forced him to stop. It was the torso decapitated of a man crawling towards him. From his neck, spurts of blood flowed.

Strangely enough, he was drawn to the torso. Will approached and crouched down to touch him. When his hand was on his shoulder, he stopped crawling. With his fingertips, he ran through the severed neck, reaching for the bone of the spine that protruded a little.

A strange sensation began to invade his body. With his fingers, he separated the skin from the muscle and inserted his hand. Instantly a lump could be seen on the back of the torso. As he pulled out his hand, he had a chunk of flesh that he had ripped out while exploring. He held it with both hands and looked at it in ecstasy. 

The flesh still felt warm and emanated an indescribably delicious smell. He ate it without hesitation. He felt so hungry that when he finished, he licked his hands in desperation.

Hannibal looked at him attentively. It seemed that the therapy was working as he expected. “Will.” It only took one mention of his name for him to come to his senses. 

His breathing was agitated. It felt like having nightmares, but he knew that it went beyond a simple nightmare. “What are you doing… to me?” his voice choked with emotion.

“I’m just bringing back your true self.” Hannibal looked at him as if he were his most valuable achievement. Pride was impossible to hide.

With the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Of course.” Will covered his face with both hands. He could still taste the flesh, and that shook him excessively. 

He hated that his memory was coming back because that only made him aware of the reality he was living. And also the fact he was doing nothing to prevent it from escalating to higher levels.

“What are you thinking? I'm interested in hearing your thoughts.” He stood up and gave Will his glasses.

“I still have to deal with you and what I feel about you.” With his trembling hands, he put on his glasses while he responded.

Again he sat in front of him. “I assume both issues have evolved into something more cordial.”

Will's heart was getting louder and louder. He felt the sound of his heartbeats finding their way out every time he opened his mouth. Something wasn't right, but he wasn't willing to investigate his own body. He knew that in doing so, he might run into something unpleasant, something he preferred to keep covering in the darkness of his mind.

“Struggling every day to keep you from changing me into someone I'm not... it's consuming me.” Even with all the doubts that haunted him, he preferred to continue fighting to be the Will he had known all his life.

Hannibal’s position was firm, and he didn't intend to change it. He was willing to show Will that their souls were more akin than anyone could have imagined. “There's nothing more terrifying than accepting oneself in its entirety. Acceptance will be the only way you have a future, one by my side.”

“Do you think there is a happy future eating people waiting for us? Or is this whole brainwashing plan the way you marinate my flesh to eat it?” He wanted answers. But he didn't know what he really wanted to hear.

“I would never hurt you, Will. The compassion I profess to you is the most reliable proof.”

The usual tension between them clouded the office.

Without further delay, Jack walked into Freddie's room. He needed answers, and this time he'd get them. That woman possessed vital information of Hannibal, something so important he didn't mind showing up to silence her.

A nurse examined her blood pressure that was altered due to the incident. Her bandage-covered neck was also a reminder of Hannibal's willpower.

As soon as the nurse left, Jack got close to her bed. “We need to talk.”

“You show no compassion to anyone.” Her voice sounded raspy at times.

The effects of the sedatives were disappearing, and her neck was starting to hurt again. Pain could be perceived through her facial expression.

Jack walked around the room a couple of times, trying to organize his thoughts. “Now you're on Hannibal's list. Welcome to the party.” He glared at her with mockery as he sat in a chair near the bed.

“Are you going to protect me?” The volume of her voice oscillated. It was evident that she felt pain as she spoke.

It was the second time he was compelled to work with her, and it bothered him. He knew the schemes with which she worked, so he couldn't trust her. He cleared his throat and looked at her straight in the eye. “Are you going to help me? I need you to tell me why Hannibal was after you.”

Freddie was aware that the interrogation was imminent, and she also knew that she was unwilling to share the information she had worked so hard to gather. “I have no idea, Agent Crawford.”

Her response made him grin. “Perfect. Perfect. It's up to you if you don't want to cooperate. Now you're on your own.” Jack stood up and made his way to the door.

Before he could grab the doorknob, the woman yelled. “Wait! You can't just throw me away. It's your job to protect people.” The man's attitude irritated her. She couldn't believe he was so easily detached from his duties.

He turned towards her. “Arrest them too. You have information and refuse to cooperate. I can accuse you of being an accomplice.” Jack knew he had to keep a firm stance in front of her. Otherwise, the situation would get out of his hands, and he wouldn't get the information he needed.

Freddie was very upset, but she knew there was nothing she could do. The pain in her neck reminded her of how weak she was and that she needed help to survive that psychopath. “Okay, I'll give you everything I have. In return, I want the best protection the FBI can provide.”

“I can give you a loaded gun.” Jack made fun of Freddie's requests.

“So funny.” She got out of bed and went to the closet. She looked with gloom at her evidence. Now she'd give it all up, and her work wouldn't be reflected in a juicy article in her beloved newspaper or website. She sighed for a long time and then handed the bag to Jack.

The man, hesitantly, opened the bag. “It's Will's gun. And is this a letter?” He took a piece of paper. No detailed analysis was necessary. He instantly knew who the author was. “It's Hannibal's handwriting. Where did you find the bag?”

Freddie was back in bed. Before answering she coughed, the pain in her throat limited her ability to speak. “The big man who was always around buried this bag near Graham's house.”

— Bernard —For some time, he had suspected him, so he didn't doubt the woman's word. “Did you see anyone else?”

Using her keen reporter sense, she concluded that she should keep information for her personal use. She had to conserve some winning cards for when the situation called for it.

“No, just him.”

The sun was almost setting, so Hannibal set everything up for supper. Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto 2 was the piece chosen for the occasion.

Hannibal took the meat that was draining into a strainer. In the bowl beneath it was all the liquid. “I’ve been preparing this for six days. The tongues should brine to get the perfect texture.”

Will looked into the strainer. “Whose tongues are those?”

Hannibal placed both tongues on a chopping board. “These belonged to your nurses.” He took a knife and checked its edge against the light.

“Debbie and Helena.” The women's faces filled his mind.

As he realized Will was getting lost in his thoughts, Hannibal interrupted him. The last thing he wanted was for his empathy to drive him away. “Do you want to help me?” He handed him a knife.

Hannibal took some beets out of the pot where the meat was and put them in a bowl. Will took another chopping board and began cutting them into quarters, carefully following the recipe in front of him.

When the tongues were cooled and drained, Hannibal peeled them completely. When it was ready, he began to cut it into thin slices. Then he added olive oil in a frying pan and started frying the meat lightly.

As he finished, he approached Will. It filled him with joy to see him prepare the salad dressing. 

Will add lemon juice, dijon mustard, minced garlic, and tarragon into a bowl. Then he looked at Hannibal waiting for his approval. One single smile was enough for him to continue. He slowly whisks in the olive oil until emulsified. Finally, he mixed the beets in with the dressing and some capers.

The supper was ready.

The two of them were at the table. A beautiful chandelier in the center of the table illuminated the room subtly. A silver platter had the main course, the tongues of the nurses cut into thin slices. They were just out of the frying pan. The steam could still be seen emanating from each slice. 

On one side of the meat, the beetroot salad gave the dish that touch of color. 

Hannibal was standing serving the plates. With all the ceremony the meal required. When he finished, he placed a plate in front of Will. “Buon appetite.” A grimace of pleasure accompanied that phrase.

Will looked at the plate. It looked and smelled so delicious that part of him felt guilty for feeling that way. However, a cloud surrounded his being. It was his darkness, something he fought with constantly. He felt so hungry that he could not control himself.

He took the knife and fork and slowly cut off a piece of meat. As he did, he could see Debbie crying. He squeezed his eyes and dropped the silverware.

“Free your mind. Don't allow your empathy to control you anymore.” The way he looked at him was as if he could see straight into his mind. 

Involuntary movements made him move his face to the same side with insistence. “I cannot.”

“Of course, you can. You must learn to use your empathy as the sharpest of swords. Save yourself. Kill them all.” He lifted his fork with a piece of meat and ate it delicately. It was noticeable how much he enjoyed every bite.

A sensation he didn't know surrounded him. He cut a piece of meat, and without taking his eyes off Hannibal, ate it. The meat melted in his mouth. He could feel his chest flooding with the subtlety of flavor.

“What do you think?” His words were imbued with expectation.

“It has a flavor similar to...” He couldn't find the right word to describe what he just experienced. He licked his lips slowly, trying to relive that pleasant sensation. Something activated in his brain, it was like a switch that had never been triggered before. “Satisfaction,” he pronounced it with such a level of confidence that Hannibal was surprised.

“The best flavor in the world.” He raised his glass with finesse to toast to the success of the feast. “Alla salute.”

Will lifted his glass and smiled with some vileness.

After several days of trying to talk to Demian, Miriam managed to get the man to give her an appointment. She just had to say she was investigating Graham and he didn't refuse to talk to her. She had to act quickly now that everything had gotten out of control. Although she wasn't sure about what Hannibal wanted, she knew she had to control Demian. She had to get him to act at her will.

She arrived at the restaurant at the agreed time and waited outside. A cold wind made her tremble. At that moment she regretted wearing a dress. She rubbed her hands trying to warm up. "Damn you, Demian," she thought again and again, as the cold gave her goosebumps.

She grumbled. When she was about to leave someone held her by the shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Miss Lass. This way, please.” It was a waiter from the restaurant.

With no fuss, she nodded and followed him. There was no one inside the restaurant. Even the lights were out. The path was illuminated by the soft lights of the lamps that were in the center of each table.

On the back table was Demian. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” He stood up to receive her. He held her by the hand and kissed her on the cheek. His warmth intoxicated him.

“Goodnight, Dr. Sutton.” She smiled kindly while looking around. 

A waiter came over and asked her to have a seat. When she was sitting at the table she saw with astonishment that there were only desserts. Mostly strawberry dishes.

When he saw that she kept looking around, the man decided to clarify her doubts. “There's no one in the restaurant because I booked it so we could talk quietly. And don't call me that, I prefer to be called Demian.”

“The wine you asked for.” The waiter interrupted their small talk.

“Thank you.” He took the bottle of wine and served it in both glasses. When he finished, he lifted his glass. “Let's make a toast.”

Miriam lifted her glass. “What's the toast for?” Thanks to the information Hannibal had given her, she knew that her personality was very volatile, so she decided to do whatever the man asked of her.

“It's been a long time since I've dated such an interesting and beautiful lady.” The woman's eyes evoked him a certain nostalgia. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember someone who looked like her. “One thing, I don't know about wine. I usually choose them by color, I drink the one that fits my mood. And I thought that a rosé wine would be a good option.”

She smiled. His personality intrigued her. Nevertheless, she was there to fulfill the task entrusted to her. “I don't mean to be rude, but can we talk about Graham?”

“Go ahead.” He lowered his glass and looked intently at the woman in front of him.

“In the call, you mentioned something about his captor. What do you know about that?”

Demian ate the strawberries that were on the slice of a cake that was in front of him. “The same as you. Hannibal Lecter is a character who in recent years has gained great notoriety.”

“Why do you think he did it?” She was upset to hear that people would speak ill of him without knowing about him.

“Because we all know that the monster has a serious weakness for Will. You, FBI guys, were using him as bait to lure Lecter, weren't you?” He finished eating the cake and went on to eat jelly.

She took a sip from her glass. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Even Will knew it and allowed you to use him as a decoy. That empathy is a curse that will end him. Although I imagine that Dr. Cannibal will be in charge of eliminating that little problem.” He was eating the desserts, he was like a child. Miriam looked at him with some suspicion, she couldn't believe he wouldn't take their meeting seriously.

It was obvious he wouldn't get anything substantial out of it. However, she had to treat the matter delicately. “Do you have any other information you can provide me with?”

“Yeah. There's only one way to meet a person. Watching them dance.” He wiped his mouth with the napkin, not before eating another strawberry.

“Excuse me?” She looked at him confused.

“Would you grant me the honor of dancing with me?” Demian beckoned and suddenly, _I put a spell on you_ of _Nina Simone_ was playing. He stood up and went with her, without waiting for an answer he took her by the hand. Miriam had no choice but to get up. 

They started dancing on what looked like an improvised dance floor.

Demian felt the warmth. He couldn't believe the warmth that sheltered him so beautifully emanated from her. Only with one person, he had felt warmth, and he thought he would never experience that feeling again. Not with a living human being. 

Their bodies were so intertwined that the expression on their faces made clear that neither of them understood what was going on. So they just let themselves be carried away by the rhythm of the song.

Miriam was so absorbed in the intensity of Demian's gaze that she completely forgot Hannibal's order. At that moment there were only two of them in the world.

At the end of the song, Demian caressed Miriam's cheek. “Congratulations, you accomplished your task. You have captivated me.”

Slowly he approached her. Her breath collided with her skin creating a chill that made her close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, Demian's face was millimeters away from hers.

Their lips rubbed a couple of times. “I hope we meet again, Miss FBI.” He walked away from her and went straight to the door of the restaurant. 

Miriam felt that her legs would fail. She didn't understand what had just happened.

It was already dark, and Hannibal put on his gabardine. That only meant he was going out.

“Are you going out?” Will asked when he saw him getting ready. 

“Yes, I must go see someone”—he picked up a scarf and elegantly placed it around his neck—“While I'm out, you can continue your piano lessons.”

After a few minutes, Will was alone. A sting in his throat made him go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. It was a nuisance just behind his tongue.

When he opened the refrigerator, he saw some leftovers from that evening's food. Just seeing it made her stomach roar. Without hesitation, he took a slice and nibbled. The smell, texture, flavor, appearance, and gnashing of the flesh between his teeth led him to experience a sensation he had never experienced before or had never allowed himself to experience. 

Images of Debbie and Helena's death filled his mind. He could see in detail how Hannibal killed them. He watched in awe how life escaped from their bodies. 

While he witnessed their deaths, he continued eating.

Their screams. Their crying. Their blood gushing. All in all gave an extraordinary flavor to the meat. And to call it a flavor was the most earthly term he could give it. What he ate elevated him to a state of mind, which he swore to himself, was nirvana. The nirvana that Hannibal had created just for the two of them.

U One of his crutches slipped little by little. That brought him out of his state of elevation.

Dumbfounded, he looked at what he had done. Salad and meat parts were all over the floor. Out of nowhere, the pain in his leg returned with great vigor. He leaned on the refrigerator. The pain was such that he began to pant hard.

As he panted so hard, he felt an obstruction in his throat, something that prevented him from breathing. He approached the sink and tried to vomit what was stuck. After a great deal of effort, he managed to expel what was bothering him. He opened his eyes and saw Abigail's ear in the sink.

“Eat more. This is your becoming.” It was Dolarhyde. The man looked at him with a horrible grimace.

Will looked back at the sink. Blood began to flow from the faucet. It was so much that it soon overflowed.

“You see? Now you see?” Hobbs looked at him with that horrible smile.

Will walked away from the sink, but the blood soon reached his feet. 

“I’m not like you,” his voice trembled as he said it.

The men started laughing. Their laughter was terrifying, and it echoed so deeply that the floor seemed to rumble in unison.

“I’m not like you!” he shouted with all his strength. He left the kitchen as quickly as the crutches allowed him. At that moment, he went to look for Bedelia. It was his only chance to save her and himself.

He dropped the crutches and walked a few steps. That first attempt was futile, his legs flinched, and he fell to the floor noisily. The will to follow abandoned him for a moment, but something inside made him stand up. Empathy, he owed to it that he couldn't refuse to help others.

He rose with great effort. As he put his leg on the floor, he felt it flaccid, like a piece of boneless flesh.

He tried to remain calm.

When he managed to keep his balance, he took a few steps. He could feel his bones creaking with every movement. He continued to walk slowly, despite how bad it felt. His face was covered with sweat, and his eyesight was clouded by the dizziness caused by the pain.

He made it to the second floor. That had felt like climbing Mount Everest.

He rushed to Bedelia. Time was short, and he had already wasted a lot. The woman woke up when she heard the door open. Without saying anything, Will approached her, but when he tried to hold her, she stopped him.

“I have something to ask you.” She pulled a fork out of her pillow and gave it to him.

“A fork?”

“Hannibal took a jeweler from me, and only with this type of fork can be opened. Listen carefully. I have documents there that are important to him. In the right hands, they could be a dangerous weapon.”

His face showed no emotion. It was blank. “What the jeweler looks like.”

“It has my name carved in gold.”

He kept the fork in his pants. Then he took her by the arm and, carefully, removed the IV. He inhaled deeply through his nose and then held her. Although the woman was already very thin, it was almost impossible for him to hold her in his arms.

“Why are you doing this?” Without understanding what was going on, she just looked at him.

Will's arms weren't healthy. He still wasn't fully recovered in mobility or strength. Bedelia held on to his neck as she felt that the arms holding her didn't stop shaking.

“I'm not going to let him kill you.” The determination on his face overwhelmed her.

“Foolish, righteous boy. Are you going to sacrifice yourself for me?”

“Don't worry, the only sacrifice will be my leg. And if I lose it, it won't go to waste, he'll probably eat it... or we'll eat it.” He smiled. It was a strained smile.

Will bit his lip and walked. He had to do it because such an opportunity wouldn't come again.

After much effort, he managed to get to the front door. Again he experienced anxiety, just like the previous occasion. It took all his willpower to move forward. Something inside him was still holding him back.

When they were outside the house, Will felt that his leg would break at any moment. His still weakened bone wasn't ready for that kind of activity.

The moonlight illuminated the path to the forest in front of them. Without hesitation, he entered. The trees would be perfect for hiding if the situation warranted it. He stopped for a moment and leaned on a huge tree that was nearby. He needed a moment to stabilize his breathing.

“You're out of breath.” She was worried about him. Strangely enough, the man who caused her the most discomfort and jealousy in recent years was the man who was making her feel protected.

Before he answered, he took big breaths of air. “Breathing is very painful.”

The proximity of their bodies allowed her to feel the acceleration of her heart rate. “Hannibal indoctrinated you to prevent that you left him, in response, your mind attacks your body.” When she turned around something startled her. “Hannibal,” her voice trembled in fear.

Will looked up and saw the man at the threshold of the door.

At that instant, the time began to run slower, and the sounds of the night were gradually distorted. For a moment, he lost consciousness, but Bedelia's voice brought him back.

“Will, are you okay?” The woman's arms clung tighter around his neck.

“Yes, I believe so”—he held her firmly and continued walking—“We must hurry. He'll be out looking for us soon.” He knew he had to get away or else Hannibal would find them easily.

The joint in his knee felt stiffer and stiffer. Soon it would be impossible for him to walk. In the distance, he could see the body of an abandoned van. Using the little energy he had left, he advanced as fast as he could, but a huge rock on the road stopped them. Will tripped, and to prevent her from an injury, he turned his body to protect her.

The woman was on top of him.

Bedelia was about to speak, but Will quickly covered her mouth. He signaled that someone was nearby. He stood up trying not to make any noise, but the dry leaves of the trees made it difficult.

When he managed to stand up, he felt a stabbing pain in his knee. He had forced it too far. But that was not the time to lament. After a slight sigh, he prepared to hold Bedelia.

“Will!” she cried out in fear.

Before he could react, a hand covered his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focused on Will and his intriguing mind. I really liked writing it, the psychological scenes are fun :P  
I hope you enjoyed it even a little.
> 
> (灬♥ω♥灬)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

After half an hour of driving, Hannibal stopped at a dinner place on the road. He came in and ordered a coffee while waiting at a small table. It seemed like the waitress knows him, for the way the woman greeted him.

The legs of the chair were uneven, so he swung back and forth if he moved abruptly. He looked at his watch desperately. The smell of the place alone was bothering him beyond belief as always. Even the mug before him caused him discomfort. No matter how many times he'd been there, that place wasn't for him.

Time passed, so without realizing it, he began to tap his fingers on the surface of the table. Something made him uncomfortable. All he could think about was Will. But before he had the chance to do anything, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Sorry, too much traffic.” A man in a black suit sat in front of Hannibal with a condescending grin.

“Don’t worry” —he grasped the small cup tightly to release his anger—“So, may I count on you again, officer?”

“Of course.” He called a waitress and ordered the special. When the woman left, he put some files on the table. “No one knows you're here, but to be honest, it's not easy to divert people's attention from that area.”

Hannibal smirked. “I think this would make it easy. For you and your family.” He pulled a check out of his gabardine and put it on the table. “This will help divert attention.”

The man's eyes opened wide and stared at the check. “I appreciate your generosity, doctor.”

**\-------------------------------------------**

Will turned around and found out it was Bernard. Without understanding what he was doing there, Will walked away from him and tried to protect Bedelia. At that time he couldn't trust anyone.

"Don't worry Mr. Graham, I'm here to help you," he said with the sincerity that characterized him.

Without paying attention to Bernard. Will turned and tried to hold Bedelia, but his leg bent so much that he fell to the ground again. The pain was so severe that all he did was grit his teeth, to ease it.

"Let me help you." Bernard bent over to hold the woman up, but before he could get close, Will got in the way.

"What do you want here?" He was confused, at that moment his head was in chaos.

"Trust me." Before hearing his answer, Bernard held the woman and grabbed Will by the arm. A strong presence quickly approached them, but his reflexes saved them from being discovered. He moved as fast as he could to take them to the nearest tree. Bernard was worried, something was happening. Before they could say anything, the man, with a gesture, told them to remain silent. The cold of the night, along with the accumulated tension, created horrible chills for Will, who was trembling all the time. Bedelia approached Will and in a soft voice said, "The control of your mind belongs to you. Stop listening to the outside, and learn to listen to your inside." Not understanding why her words calmed him down. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on the leaves froze their blood. It was Hannibal. Although he was at a considerable distance, his aura was so powerful that everyone could feel how threatening he was.

"Bernard, I'm going to trust you," Will looked around with trepidation. "Get Bedelia out of here. I'll distract Hannibal so you can leave."

"Mr. Graham, you don't..." Before he could say anything else, Will stood up and looked at him with resolve. 

"Save her. Do it for me.” After saying that, he walked away with difficulty. His leg could no longer stand, and every step was torture.

"We must go, ma'am." Bernard held Bedelia. Before leaving, he looked at Will. 

His only chance to get him away from Hannibal was gone, now there was no way to separate them. That's what he thought as saw him walk away. Without further delay, he moved forward, covering himself with the surrounding trees.

A crack from his leg made Will stop. Luckily there was a tree behind him. He leaned back because he could no longer continue. He glanced straight ahead and saw the front door to the mansion. The mere sight of that door altered his breathing, made him feel like he would choke at any moment.

Hannibal who was looking at him since he reached that tree approached. "Hello, Will. You don't look well at all," he said slowly, as he got closer to him. 

His breathing was still altered. He was gasping so hard that his chest hurt enormously. "I'm not... not well at all," with great effort he managed to answer.

Hannibal checked his pupils and his temperature. When he learned that Will was fine, on psychiatric terms, he questioned him, "Where is Bedelia?" He knew the answer. He only wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Far away." He raised his face and looked at him defiantly.

Hannibal was fascinated by each of his actions. No matter how much he tried to manipulate him, he always broke all the rules. "Good Will again save a life."

"That... is my-my job," his voice was more and more choppy.

Hannibal took Will's arm and put it around his neck. "Let's go home. I have to check how much you injured your leg." He held him by the waist and helped him get to the mansion.

Bernard hastened the pace as they were further away. However, he kept turning from time to time. He was worried about what might happen to Will. He became fond of him, during the time they spent together.

"Where are you taking me," Bedelia asked fearfully. Although it was clear that he and Will knew each other, it wasn't enough to trust him with her life.

Bernard didn't answer, he remained silent. With no choice, Bedelia had to believe that the man would take her to the safe place he had promised. In her present condition, moving was a luxury she could no longer afford.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Du Maurier. Nothing bad is going to happen to you," after saying that he smiled affably.

"How do you know my name?" Bedelia looked at him carefully. She tried to recognize him, for it was obvious that they knew each other from somewhere.

Before she could conclude, the big man stopped suddenly. Although Bedelia was facing backward, she could feel the presence of someone approaching. Instinctively she held on tightly to Bernard's neck.

The sound of crunching dry leaves proved the woman's presentiment right.

"My dear Bedelia."

That voice froze her. She could feel her heart coming out of her chest, because of the speed with which it was beating. Again, she clenched on the man's jacket. The nerves were betraying her in the worst way, without warning the tears soaked her face.

"Hello, Demian," after saying that she turned her face. 

In front of her was he, the man she had not seen for almost twenty years.

In the mansion, Hannibal laid Will on a couch. He then retired to look for his medical instruments to treat him as appropriate. On the way, he saw the kitchen light on and came in. The open refrigerator door captured his attention. Chunks of meat and salad on the floor made him smile. It seemed that Will's hunger was beginning to awaken. 

The pain in his leg had not only appropriated the whole of his being, but it also controlled his mind. All he could think about was pain and more pain. His body was slowly numbing as a result of that terrible affliction.

Hannibal returned without delay. "Let's examine your leg." He knelt on one side of the sofa. With a pair of scissors, he made a large opening in the pants. When the leg was exposed, he checked it carefully.

"Is it bad?" he asked as he felt his penetrating look.

Hannibal did not answer. 

His leg was perfect. It only had scratches and bruises from the recent fall. At that moment, he knew that the therapy he was undergoing was bearing results. His mind was breaking again.

"Your bone is dislocated. I'm going to put it back in place." He stood up and held Will's leg with both hands. He turned his face and saw how he was suffering from a non-existent pain.

It was true that, in the past, his leg had been in bad condition because of the fractures. But now he was proving that this chronic pain and the disaster in the kitchen were the beginning of the premorbid personality. He smiled gladly, for it was evident that he was soon to be reborn from his ashes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked of Hannibal's lack of action.

"No. Now I'm going to put your bone in place." He moved his leg, pretending to heal it.

Even though it was all in his mind, Will could feel such intense pain that it ran through his body. His breathing became so agitated that Hannibal had to help him sit down, so he could catch his breath better.

Continuing with the act, Hannibal put an orthopedic knee brace on him. 

"Where did you get that?" Will asked as he saw the orthopedic holder on his knee.

"I knew you had a broken leg, so I bought the supplies to treat you." He smiled warmly as he finished placing the brace on his leg.

Hannibal gave him painkillers to ease the pain. When he tried to swallow them, he experienced the same discomfort he had felt in the kitchen. That strange feeling of something stuck in his throat. Even so, he forced himself to swallow the pills.

Despite the medication, the pain was not completely relieved. The sweat kept running down his face. "I need to take a shower," he said after he wiped his forehead.

"I would recommend a bath. That way, it would help you relax and stop some of the pain in your knee".

"No!" he shouted in fear. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to face another fear. And he didn't want Hannibal to know about his phobias either.

The way he responded made it clear that he was afraid of water. For Hannibal, it was easy to tell when a person felt frightened. His sense of smell never lied.

"I can help you overcome that fear," his words were so strong that Will had no choice but to accept. At the time, his mind was so malleable that Hannibal could do whatever he wanted with him.}

When Will got into the room, he took off his clothes except for his underwear. Hannibal grabbed his arm and put it back around his neck and then led him to the bathroom, where the tub full of water was waiting for him. A drip from the faucet created a sound that paralyzed him. Will was so afraid that he didn't mind acting so shamefully in front of Hannibal.

"I can't. I'm afraid." He clenched Hannibal's arm.

"Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood." He turned his face to Will and caressed his head vehemently. "Show me that you are everything I perceive."

Will just nodded his head.

Hannibal took him to the bathtub. He needed to hold Will in his arms so he could get in.

"Don't let go of me," Will said, clinging to the arms holding him.

"I will never let you go." He closed his eyes and recharged his chin on his head. The mere contact with him was enough to make him felt that everything he was doing was right.

Will closed his eyes. Feeling the water all over his body, brought back very unpleasant memories. He could sense the darkness slowly devouring him again. However, this time everything was different because now there was a hand holding him and that gave him some confidence. Little by little, he lay down in the tub without letting go of Hannibal's arm. The only part of his body outside the water was his face. Locks of his hair appeared, according to the flow of the water. Despite his hesitation, he entered the world he feared the most. The dreams the comma had given him as the worst present ever.

"Tell me what you see," Hannibal asked.

Strange images began to appear in front of his eyes. _Was it the past or the future?_ Will wondered as he saw those strange scenes. He could see people who looked familiar, but most were images of the dead from the cases he had worked on. Among other things that he didn't understand at all.

Out of nowhere, his mind shook, and the huge hallway appeared again. The one that had become his usual nightmare.

"I see a huge, dark hallway." The tone of his voice made it clear that he was afraid. He gripped Hannibal's arm tightly.

"Walk into it and tell me what's there." He had no choice but to put his arms in the water to hold him better. 

In spite of the fear that seized him, he entered that dark hallway. And again, this incessant dripping appeared, it was so loud that it ended up flooding his ears. As the dripping continued, it became more and more intense. Until it began to sound like a river stream. A sound he knew very well.

"I hear a river," he said in a soft voice. Suddenly his breathing began to flutter.

"What's going on? Tell me what you see?" Hannibal was trying to keep him in the trance and get more information, but it seemed impossible.

What Will saw disturbed him so deeply that he couldn't bear it. At the end of the hallway, he was eating the bodies of Jack and Alana. Their heads were on a platter, in the middle of a long table that seemed to float in that terrible obscurity. Their bodies cut into pieces were on plates dripping with blood.

Will stood there motionless, watching himself devour them. He was so close that he could hear the flesh creaking in his mouth. He could even see the blood that completely covered the body of his alter ego. Will turned and tried to flee, but there was no escape. His alter ego was standing in front of him. His body drained with the blood of his victims. The image was overly disturbing.

"Free me," when he said that, he stretched out his hand draining of blood. Will awoke before he could touch him. 

"No! No! No!" he shouted with all his strength. At the same time, tears streamed uncontrollably down his face. He was so desperate and moved so abruptly that soon the water was all over the bathroom floor.

It took all of Hannibal's strength to prevent him from hurting himself. He immediately pulled Will out of the bathtub. It seemed that his mind would not take any more stimulus for that night. He held him in his arms to the room and helped him get dressed. All the time Will's face was blank. Hannibal took him to bed and laid him down, after giving him some painkillers. As he was about to leave to change his wet clothes, Will pulled his shirt. 

"I'm not... a murderer," he said before lost consciousness due to the pills.

Hannibal looked at him with a smile. "Of course not. That vulgar term doesn't apply to what we do."

The next morning everyone was gathered in Jimmy's room, except Miriam. Although only one day had passed since the intervention, they were worried that he would not wake up from the induced coma. There was nothing to do, they just had to wait for him to react. The one who suffered the most was Zeller, even he couldn't believe how much it affected him to see Price in that condition.

Taking advantage of the fact that everyone was present, Jack informed them about the progress made in the case against Hannibal. "I got evidence of Will's kidnapping," he said with some mistrust because he didn't even know how good the news was.

Everyone looked at him in surprise. Although they knew who the kidnapper was, there was no evidence to incriminate him, so that was a breakthrough. They could also find justice for what happened to Jimmy.

"Where did you find the evidence," Zeller asked. Since he had been in charge of collecting the evidence at the scene and the few that had been found had been futile to the investigation.

"Freddie Lounds gave me the evidence she discovered. Even if she cooperated, we must be careful with her." He knew better than anyone else that it was necessary to tiptoe when it came to that woman. In addition to the fact that Freddie was not reliable, he had to be on the lookout for another spy, like Miriam. 

The tension of those present was evident, as no one wanted to make a false move. However, Jack was one step ahead and gave them information that none of them expected. 

"I had the letter analyzed and Frederick Chilton's fingerprints were found," he said forcefully.

"Chilton was the one who kidnapped him?" asked Alana in surprise. Although it was obvious to her that Hannibal will use him to do the dirty work. 

"So it seems, now we must find him so that he can reveal to us the location of Hannibal's hideout. We must do it within the next few hours before something happens again." He hit his leg with his fist. At that moment he could feel a pressure in his chest, and a cold running down his back. The clock was ticking and they had to act before their plans reached the ears of others, and again they faced another chaos. 

Zeller tried to remember what happened to Frederick after he escaped from the FBI medical center. "Wasn't he hiding because of his deformity?" The only thing that came to mind was the atrocious appearance of the doctor.

"That's right. Now, he is a drunk with a face hard to look at," Crawford replied.

Alana and Jack were discussing how they were going to proceed with their search for Chilton. They couldn't make a big raid because they wanted to keep Purnell out, at least until they had the man in custody, because they knew the woman would interfere with their plans and not let them act freely.

Zeller listened to them speak attentively. He was aware of the importance of the operation and also knew of his limitations in fieldwork, but he wanted to find some clue that would guide him to the person who had shot his colleague. "I want to help with the search, but I need someone I can trust to take care of Jimmy," He was determined to be an active part of the investigation.

"I can do it," Margot said.

Alana was surprised to hear her. "Margot." The last thing she wanted was to get her involved. She didn't want her to end up wounded or dead at Hannibal's hands. 

However, the woman was determined to support them. She knew that Alana would always be in danger if Hannibal was not captured. So for the sake of her family, she was willing to help as much as she could. 

"Don't worry, the place is surrounded by officers. Besides, it's the only thing I can be of any use to you." Margot smiled at Alana. Even with all the problems they had on their backs, Alana was happy to have her wife in those hard times. 

The situation was critical, one could breathe in the stress in the small room. 

Zeller approached Jimmy and caressed his face. He knew he had to do his best to make the culprits pay to put his best friend's life at risk, and also to get Katz's murderer back in prison.

All of them had different motives, but their goal was the same. Capture the man who had and continued to ruin their lives.

"Well, we have until midnight to find him. We can't let Hannibal get ahead of us again," Jack remarked, trying to motivate the remaining members of his team.

Will practiced piano like every afternoon. It was the only activity that distracted him from the entanglement that was his mind. Strangely now that piano had become his safe place, the place he used to meditate. He was so immersed in himself that he didn't notice when Hannibal entered the hall.

"You have improved considerably in a remarkably short time," he said in awe as he heard how he was playing better.

He stopped playing and turned to see him in the eyes. "It's because of my compulsive personality."

Hannibal pulled a score from a coffee table drawer. "You're going to play Gnossienne."

Will took the score. "Erik Satie. Why?" he asked while carefully looking through it.

"This piece didn't belong to any category. It didn't fit in any of the existing ones. That's why Satie created a special word." He approached Will and held him by his shoulders. "This piece is similar to you. Difficult to understand, but enchanting in its own particular way."

The lesson began. Hannibal sat on the bench with him to show him how the piece should be played. The passion he felt playing the piano flooded Will's chest with strange sensations. The man didn't oppose his empathy, this time he wanted to perceive everything. When it was his turn, he felt great sorrow. Traces of his past flooded his mind. He still missed being that Will who was protected among those enormous forts. The one who only needed the company of his dogs to feel accompanied.

Although Hannibal was writing in his black notebook, he instantly noticed Will's change of attitude. "What is it? Something is bothering you?"

Will stopped playing the piano. He stretched his leg and felt a stabbing pain in his knee. "I miss my dogs," his voice showed the sadness that was seizing him. What he missed most about his past were his companions.

"You don't have to worry about them. I sent a letter to Alana, almost polite." He took his black notebook and glued it to his chest.

"I'd like to see them," his voice was entangled between longing and regret.

"Wait a minute." Hannibal left the room and it took him several minutes to come back. When he returned he was carrying a small red Pekingese. "He is not your dog, but you can take care of him."

Will held him in his arms and caressed him happily. "A lion dog." His smile was so wide that Hannibal felt pleased.

"His name is Cerberus." Hannibal sat again on the piano bench next to Will and petted the dog gently. That moment was bizarre for him but quite pleasant, because of the company.

He smiled when he heard how Hannibal named the dog. "Why the big name for this little buddy?" As he talked he didn't stop petting his new friend. His soft coat comforted him. He felt that a part of his former self was resurfacing thanks to the puppy.

"Because is a royal dog and need a powerful name." Hannibal watched Will closely. It was the first time he saw him act like a little boy. He was captivated because no matter how much he explored his mind, Will always managed to surprise him.

"Then you are Hades and I'm the tormented soul he'll prevent from escaping." After saying that I look at Hannibal with a smile on his face.

"Exactly." 

The fascination he felt for Will surpassed all his limits.

In the hospital, Freddie began to check the evidence she possessed. She had yet to find out what the connection was between Bernard and Demian, as it was the last link to discover Hannibal's story in Baltimore. There was only one person who could help her, and that was Margot since the Masons and the Suttons had been very close in the past. When she found out that the woman was alone in the room with Price, she immediately took action.

"Hi, Margot. My name is Freddie Lounds. I suppose you've heard a lot about me," she said as she closed the door of the room.

When she saw her come in, she rose to her feet. "Hello. And yes, I've heard of you." She stood in front of Jimmy trying to protect him since she didn't know what the woman's intentions were.

Freddie smiled when she saw her so nervous. "Well, I'm here because I have some questions for you." She sat in a chair near the door, then she took out his cell phone and showed it to Margot. "You know this man?"

She took the cell phone and looked at the man in the picture closely. "He looks familiar but I can't recall." She handed Freddie her cell phone back.

"He was with Demian Sutton. The renowned orthopedist," after saying that she kept her cell phone in her pants.

The last name resounded in her head. "Sutton..." Suddenly she remembered. It was the man who killed pigs with his bare hands. That traumatized her so much, that his face was engraved in her mind. "It's Bernard. He worked for Demian's family. He was his father's bodyguard or something like that." Her expression showed how disturbing her memory was.

When she heard that information, it was enough to tie up the loose ends. "Now everything makes sense." She felt so joyful that she couldn't hide it.

"Why you have his photo?" Margot didn't understand why that woman was so interested in the Suttons. 

Freddie got up from the chair and walked to the door. "We have some business here and there. I gotta go, and thank you for the info." The woman hurried out of the room.

"Bernard wasn't the man who took care of Will?" asked Jimmy in a soft voice.

When Margot heard it, she quickly turned to him. She couldn't believe he was awake. "Let me call the doctor." The woman left the room to look for the ones in charge.

Jimmy looked around in wonder. He didn't understand what had happened or what he was doing in a hospital. The last thing I remembered was that he was watching Trevor Reed and somebody entered the room.

That night, Alana sent several of her bodyguards to look for Chilton. Time was running out, and they had to find him as soon as possible. Zeller went out on his own, after searching in various pubs and questioning multiple bartenders, he managed to obtain clues to his whereabouts.

He entered the last pub on his list. The place was so dark and smoky that it was almost impossible to distinguish the faces of the people inside. In addition to the unquestionable smell of alcohol, it was clear that other substances were also being used there.

Zeller approached the counter when a huge man full of tattoos walked away. "Good night. I'm looking for Frederick Chilton. Have you seen him?" He took a picture and showed it to him.

"Not gonna drink anything? Here we only attend clients," the man's voice was very threatening.

Without further ado, Zeller ordered a beer. Before the attentive look of the bartender, he had no choice but to drink it all, but he had so much that he didn't drink that his head began to spin.

"You're a laugh. Now say what you were gonna ask." The man took Zeller's glass from the counter.

Zeller repeated the question and gave him a photo of Chilton. The man looked closely at the photo. "I dunno if it's the same old man, but always comes here a guy pretending to be a famous psychiatrist named Chilton."

He still felt dizzy from the beer, but that information brought him back to his five senses. "Is he here?" he asked expectantly.

"Yes, that's him in the corner." The bartender pointed to a man who was lying on the floor.

With a certain mistrust, he approached, because that place gave him such a bad feeling that he didn't want to make a mistake. Even with his malformations, it was easy for him to identify him. "Good night, Dr. Chilton," said Zeller.

Frederick lifted his face at the sound of his name. "Who are you?" After saying that he held on to a nearby chair, trying to get up. He was so drunk that he ended up staggering and lying on the floor again.

Zeller helped him to get on his feet. He held him by both arms and leaned him against the wall. "My name is Brian Zeller, I work for the FBI."

When he heard he was FBI, he tried to run away, but his movements were so clumsy that Brian caught him easily. "I don't know... anything about Graham," Chilton said in a raspy voice. 

Zeller pulled out his gun from under his jacket. "We'll soon find out." He held the man by one shoulder and pulled him out of place. 

"Thank you for your help," he said as he passed by the bartender.

When they were outside, Zeller immediately called Alana and Jack. Every second seemed like an eternity to him. With fear he looked around, hoping that Hannibal would appear before them at any moment.

"Graham is not what you think," —he cleared his throat with difficulty —"he is more a monster than Hannibal.” Chilton's gaze had a strange glow that made Zeller doubt. But before he could ask him anything, a van and a patrol car parked nearby. Soon Jack, Alana and a couple of policemen, were in front of them.

"Good night, Frederick," Jack said with a big smile.

The news of Chilton's apprehension soon reached Kade Purnell's ears. She immediately sent for Jack. She didn't understand why he had arrested him if there were no charges against him. Something was going on and she was not going to allow herself to be kept at bay.

A knock on the door interrupted her meditation. "Come in." She interlocked her fingers and waited to see Jack walk through the door.

"Excuse me," he said softly as he entered the office.

Purnell looked at him with disdain. "Who are you?" she asked as she saw Zeller in front of her desk.

"I'm sorry to inform you that right now Jack Crawford is interrogating a detainee and he can't come." He felt so upset that he just wanted to get out of that place, but he knew he had to stay calm because after all, she was his boss.

The woman was so upset that she didn't try to hide it. "Then you tell me why Frederick Chilton was arrested."

Zeller hated being put in such uncomfortable situations. "Chilton was the one who kidnapped Graham," he replied bluntly.

"I understand, you can retire." At that moment she felt cornered. 

Even with the arrest warrant that turned against Will, she didn't have a solid case to indict him, and it was obvious that Jack would support him as he had done before. But she still had an ace up her sleeve, although she thought she would never use it because of its dangerousness. However, there seemed to be no other option. 

The woman intuited that Frederick was to be referred to the Institute for the Criminally Insane, so she acted before Jack transferred him. Using her power she arranged an interview with Matthew Brown, her last resort for capturing Graham. The meeting took place in the office of the new director of the Institute. 

Within minutes of her arrival, Brown showed up. He was wearing a straitjacket, a mask, and handcuffs on his feet. Her aura was so threatening that even the woman took a few steps back when she had him face to face.

"Sit him there," the woman said as she pointed to a chair that was a considerable distance away.

The guards led him to the chair. Where they tied him with a double-buckle belt. When they were finished, both guards stood behind him with their hands behind them. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brown," Purnell belittled. 

Matthew looked around, turning his head exaggeratedly. Through the holes in his mask, it could be seen that he was smiling. That smile of his that was as terrifying as ever. "What am I doing here?" he asked with ample sufficiency.

Her attitude annoyed the woman since she was used to everyone bowing their heads and following her orders without objection. However, she was aware that she needed his help. "In a few hours, Dr. Frederick Chilton will be transferred..." Before she could say anything else, he interrupted her. 

"My ex-boss. So the gentleman _I'm an expert in psychiatry _will finally be treated like the lunatic he is." When he finished saying that he laughed as loudly as the restraints allowed him. 

Purnell looked at him with displeasure. If anything she couldn't tolerate it was having to deal with the mentally ill. "I need you to get some information from him." She took a file from the desk and approached Brown. "If you help me, I can make your file disappear. You'd be a free man again and without a criminal record."

Matthew chuckled. "What kind of information are you looking for?"

"The exact location of the place where he took Will Graham." She frowned at the mere mention of that name.

"Mr. Graham? Did something happen to him?" He was so shocked that one of the guards had to hold him by the shoulders to calm him down.

"Chilton kidnapped him under the orders of Hannibal Lecter," after saying that she drew closer to him, and bowed until their faces were a minimum distance away. "Wouldn't you like to snatch him from Lecter's side?"

Matthew's eyes looked like blazing fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all your support, despite all the mistakes and my lack of writing skills. You encourage me to keep telling this story. 
> 
> I love you!! ＼(^o^)／ ＼(^o^)／ ＼(^o^)／


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!
> 
> 23/11/19  
Chapters 1, 2 and 3 have been updated. I hope and this time you can enjoy them even a little.

Hello!

I want to inform you that I'm working on the previous chapters to improve the story. So again this week there will be no new chapter. On Thursday of next week, all chapters will be changed to the new ones including the tenth.

I want to thank the regular readers for their support and I hope and these improvements will be to your liking. 

I love you (灬♥ω♥灬)


	11. Chapter 11

**This is chapter 10.**

A woman went on a small stage illuminated by the worst lights, she sang _I want to be happy_ by _Ella Fitzgerald_. She was wearing a creamy white lace dress that waved at the rhythm of her movements. Two young boys watched at her in awe. At that moment the both of them felt in Broadway, witnessing the most wonderful musical ever performed. The woman's cheeks light up in a subtle pink when she saw the little ones so attentive. Her heart skipped a beat. The monster was far away and they could enjoy themselves.

The owner of the place knew them, so he always reserved Mallory turn to the microphone. Every Saturday at 6 pm, without fail, the three arrived on time. Her voice was beautiful enough to gain a small audience. Every Saturday it was like paradise, a piece of happiness was returned to them in the form of a small blues club.

But one night everything changed. Mallory arrived with her two little sons. Her knights in shining armor. Her husband, the monster, still didn’t find out their little secret. There was nothing to worry about, even though she felt some discomfort in her chest. Then a dull pain caused her face to twist in pain.

“Mom?” his little face showed how worried he was.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m alright.” She ruffled his hair.

Mallory stood up, her turn at the microphone was next. Before going on stage he kissed his children on the forehead. When she was in front of the older boy she stopped to say something to him.

“Listen carefully, David. I want you to take care of Demian and yourself.”

“Something’s wrong, mom?”

“Please, my dear, you have to be a strong man. I love you.”

Mallory took the stage for the last time. She sang _I want to be happy_ from _Ella Fitzgerald_. When she finished singing, lost consciousness. The cries of her little children could not bring her back.

“MOM!”

The same nightmare came on the anniversary of his mother's death. Demian sat on the bed and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his blanket. On the bedside table was his wallet, he grabbed it and took out the picture of the most important woman of his life.

“Another year without you, mom.” A tear ran down his cheek. 

Little goosebumps appeared on his bare torso. The cold showed him, once again, how lonely he was.

* * *

Chilton was once again in that white room waiting to be interrogated. He already knew the procedure, he only hoped that this time it would not include the gunshot from the previous time. He crossed his legs and tapped his fingers over and over again on the table. He was anxious about the lack of alcohol in his blood. He had been locked up for more than 10 hours without anyone bothering to tell him anything. It was 10:14 in the morning. He was aware of it because of the huge clock in front of him, and the desperate tick-tock that didn't stop.

Suddenly the door opened. Without delay, Jack and Alana entered the room. Chilton stared at them all the time.

"Well, what am I accused of?"

Alana sat down while Jack continued walking around the room.

"You're charged with the kidnapping of Will Graham," after saying that, she took several photos of the evidence from a folder.

The man leaned over the table to look at the photos closely. His expression made it clear that he recognized all the evidence being presented to him.

"Tell us where he is. There's no point in hiding it," Jack said as he approached the table. When he was in front of Chilton, he placed a hand on one of the photos. He clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles turned yellow.

"I won't say it, no matter what deal I'm offered." He crossed his arms and leaned back on the chair.

"Do you prefer a life in prison?" Alana asked defiantly.

"I'd rather die anyway than end up on Hannibal Lecter's plate."

No matter how much they threatened him or the tactics they used, the man didn't say a word. It seemed that for the first time in his life resolution had knocked on his door.

* * *

Bedelia was at her hospital private room. She could still feel pain from her severed leg. In those moments her mouth filled with that terrifying taste. The taste of her flesh. Since she arrived at the hospital she vomiting to the point where there was nothing left in her stomach. Now she just had the sensation.

She hid for almost four years. Or that’s what Hannibal wanted her to believe because she never was safe. She never hid in the first place. She only waited for that terrible yet attractive man to cross the threshold of her life. Death could be sweet in those hands. Death could be less solitary with this unrequited love. Death can be salvation if the last you saw is the face of your despair.

Her closet was full of beautiful dresses. The ones from Italy no longer were useful, she needed new ones to impress. Not a single hair out of place. Sober makeup. The right dose of perfume in the right areas. And last but not least, a glass of the finest wine. That way she was always waiting for him, prepared to face death. But now everything was stolen from her. Her perfect death had escaped from her hands.

A knock on the door got her out of her mind. It was Demian, holding a beautiful bouquet of roses.

“May I come in?” his deep and sweet voice wrapped her. 

It resembled the first time she met him. He was as handsome or even more than he was then, that thought crossed her mind as she blushed like a teenager. Bedelia was ashamed. After vomiting and not sleeping at all, she sure looked worse than a zombie.

“Of course,” she replied in a soft, tremulous voice.

Demian went straight to the night table and carefully placed the flowers in the vase. She couldn't stop looking at him. His beautiful blue eyes were even more mesmerizing. Something about him was different, but she couldn't tell what it was. 

“It looked like Dr. Lecter did an awful job with you, as he did with me.” He fixed his gaze on her severed leg.

“You were right all the time. You can gloat now," she said in a small voice. She hung her head as a bitterness crept into her face.

Demian sat at the foot of the bed. He moved his lips but no sound left his mouth. His tic came to save him. He wanted to say so much at the same time that his brain overflowed with information. His lack of ability to express his feelings again got in the way. He pulled out his cell phone and played the song I want to be happy by Ella Fitzgerald.

“Today is the anniversary of my mother's death.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

“Sorry, I had no idea what day is today.” She sat on the bed and put a lock of hair behind her ear.

The song resounded softly under his hand as he held the cell phone tightly. Waves of chills seized his body, it was as if an entity possesses him and he couldn't regain control. He started rocking against his will. It was like a repetition of the last time they saw each other. Although, this time something was different. Bedelia approached him and embraced him with such tenderness that a few tears ran down his cheeks.

“You have no idea how much I used to love you. You were my goddess. But you preferred that fancy and elitist cannibal.”

“And he preferred someone else.”

“I don’t blame Hannibal. Will has something that drags psychos to him. He is the personification of the missing part all psychos are looking for. He makes them feel complete.”

He laid his head on her chest and she caressed his hair slowly. It surprised him how warm he still felt with her. There was no doubt that this woman would always be his first love. Yet, at that moment, it became clear to him. He no longer loved her as he used to. It seemed that Miss FBI had torn her out of his heart with a simple glance.

“By the way, are you calling the police?” He moved away from her to look her in the eyes. 

“I have to,” she replied with a sad expression.

Demian looked at her affectionately and embraced her tightly. “Good luck, my dear Bedelia. I enjoyed seeing you for the last time.” He kissed her on the forehead and then left the room.

* * *

The whole day Will just sat on the couch and watched TV. He hadn't moved in hours. His gaze was fixed on the device. All he did was smile when he found something funny. Hannibal observed him from a distance, it seemed that his first stages were returning and he had to allow Will to experience everything. It was the only way he would finally get out of that hard chrysalis, of which he had refused to abandon for so long.

“You want me to bring you something to eat while watching TV?” Hannibal asked him as he sat on the couch.

“Who will you bring?” he said in an aloof tone without taking his eyes off his show.

Hannibal grinned delightedly. He doesn't stop finding everything Will did amusing. There was no doubt that he was the person he needed by his side. “Since you are watching a show for I thought of giving you popcorn. And I'm sorry to inform you that I don't know the names or the identity of the corn with which they were made.”

Will looked at him right out of his eyes. “So funny.” He turned his head and continued to watch TV.

“Why watch a show for kids? Feeling nostalgic?”

“My infancy isn't something to be nostalgic about. I just like cartoons for no particular reason.”

Hannibal stayed on the couch watching him. At that moment Will looked like a little boy. Or maybe it had always been like that but he hadn't noticed. The previous circumstances hadn't allowed him to interact with him in a more familiar environment. That is why he wanted to know him as much as possible now that they were isolated.

“Then, what would you like to eat?” he asked again.

He lifted one brow quizzically. He was deep in thought. “Can you cook pizza?”

“Yes. Which one is your favorite?”

“Vegetarian. I don’t feel like eating people today.”

Will spent the rest of the day the same way, watching TV. There was not much to do, so Hannibal took a couple of books and sat down next to him to read. Although his laughter distracted him, he enjoys the sound of his joy.

The night arrived and Will woke up suddenly. Another nightmare was to blame. He was so agitated that he couldn't help but gasp hard enough to fill his lungs. The incessant sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. No matter how much he rubbed the sleeve of his pajamas, his hair refused to leave his face. Tired by the situation, he yawned and stretched out his arms, dropping them on the bed with heaviness. At that moment he felt an arm. Frightened, he jumped to sit on the bed. For a moment he had forgotten that he now shared the bed with Hannibal. An electric shock pierced his body. It was so strong that it made him stand up. But his leg bent with the weight and he ended up on the floor.

With all his effort he got up. He took his crutches and remained standing watching Hannibal. He couldn't help but think that his peaceful face made him feel an uncontrollable desire, a desire he hadn't experienced for a long time with such intensity. He bit his lips trying to contain himself. Plus a strange sensation in his crotch forced him to go to the bathroom. A place where he didn't find the solution he was hoping for. An overwhelming heat invaded his body. He could feel his boiling blood running through his body burning his skin. His veins pulsed with such force that he was aware of every part of his body.

His mouth was so dry, a scratchy sensation began to bother him. Something in the back of his throat demanded him to end the fire. Will approached the sink and drank water desperately. However, the sensation in his mouth only increased with the water. He closed the faucet while slowly kneeling in front of the sink. It was killing him, he felt that every pore of his skin would expel fire.

He was so desperate that he figured he'd die of instantaneous combustion. Maybe he shouldn't read that much. Now because of his nerdy habit, he was so scared that at the same time he was ashamed to admit it to himself. How pathetic I am, that's what he thought when he squatted in the bathroom. He came to a point where he didn't care about anything and went looking for Hannibal. After all, he was a doctor and he could save him from dying or continuing to embarrass himself for being a coward.

He stumbled out of the bathroom. His eyesight at times became blurred enough that he couldn't see, so on a couple of occasions, he ended up facing the very expensive Persian carpet. Uncertain of how he got to bed, he was kneeling on Hannibal's side. When he was about to wake him up, the man turned to where he was and their faces were only a couple of inches apart. Will froze as Hannibal's breathing gently caressed his face.

He swallowed saliva and stretched out his hand to wake him up, but something made him stop. A familiar pain seized his crotch. As he looked down he realized that the fabric of his pants was so stretched that it almost became transparent. He lowered his arm and covered his face. How it was possible that only his breathing had caused that, he refused to believe that something like that would have excited him to such a point.

As he tried to stand up, a pain brought him back to his knees. Now his pants had a stain which ran down his thigh. A wet, sticky feeling was all that remained in his crotch. Unable to believe everything that was happening, he tried to go to the bathroom again, but his legs didn't respond. And the crutches were so far away that he couldn't reach them. With no other option, he crawled to them. But a new wave of heat hit his chest violently. This time his mind got so clouded that his instincts took over.

Again he stood in front of Hannibal, kneeling and staring at him. Grasping the bedside table with considerable effort, he managed to sit on the bed. He looked at the man who was sleeping peacefully. His only expression made his crotch wake up again. Now everything was visible through the cloth, thanks to the watery, white stain from before.

Again he stood in front of Hannibal, kneeling and staring at him. Grasping the bedside table with considerable effort, he managed to sit on the bed. He looked at the man who was sleeping peacefully. His only expression made his crotch wake up again. Now everything was visible through the cloth, thanks to the previous white and viscous stain. Will pressed his thighs together and rubbed them gently against each other, creating soft friction on his member. It could be seen how the fabric of his trousers moved rhythmically from top to bottom. His hips began to rise subtly. He was so excited that at that moment rationality did not exist in him.

He raised his hand and brought it to Hannibal's face. With the utmost care, he removed the hair on his forehead and temples and placed it behind his ears. Even though the contact was minimal, he couldn't help but feel the suffocating heat and scratchy sensation in his mouth. He pressed his thighs together and a small moan escaped from his mouth. Now the stain on his pants went down to his knees.

His face turned red. He couldn't stop panting hard. His breathing was so heavy that he felt pain in his chest because of the effort. He licked his lips and approached Hannibal. He opened his mouth as he was close to his lips. At that moment something in his brain was activated. It was as if consciousness had been returned to him. He squeezed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them he couldn't believe what he saw. He was so frightened that he ended up lying on the floor again.

When he looked at his pants, he could see what had happened.

Embarrassed, he crawled to the crutches. He stood up and went straight to the bathroom to clean up and change his clothes. Afterward, he went back to bed. He still didn't understand what had happened. He couldn't remember anything after he had woken up because of the nightmare. His face was still bright red. He looked at Hannibal to see if he was still asleep. He felt at peace knowing that his sleep hadn't been interrupted by him. Bewildered, he lay down and covered his face with the blanket.

Hannibal, who was awake the whole time, opened his eyes. He was so amused by what just happened, that smiling was inevitable. It seemed like his plan was going just as he had laid it out. Will's instincts finally were at their prime.

* * *

Chilton was taken to his cell. Part of him found it ironic, that he would end up wearing the gray uniform he used to designate to the maniacs sent to him to keep an eye on them. The world turned around endlessly that sometimes ends up throwing you to the last place you could imagine. _If Gideon were alive he would be very pleased to see me paying for my crimes_. That's what he thought as he heard the cell close behind him.

“Hello, Dr. Chilton. It's a pleasure being your neighbor.” The doctor’s eyes widened as much as they could when he heard that familiar voice.

“Who arranged this? This isn’t just a coincidence.” The man walked backward until he came up against the wall. He felt so cornered that he could almost see the walls moving towards him.

“You’re right. Everything has a purpose” —he smiled horribly—“and If you want to keep breathing through that hideous nose. You better tell me where you took Mr. Graham.”

Matthew knew that if he got that information, he'd be free. Although he didn't care, all he longed for was to get back together with Will. This time he would no longer be an alone hawk, finally, he'd fly along with the person who made him feel less alone in this monotonous world. Again would be reflected in those eyes that showed him that he was no different and kindred spirits exist.

“I won’t tell you,” Frederick replied in a trembling tone. He knew better than anyone that if he said anything Hannibal would kill him, even while he was in prison. And the last thing he wanted was to die at the hands of that monster.

“Think twice, doctor. Right now I have in my hands the key to my cell and also yours.” He tossed the keys from one hand to the other, letting the faint clinking of the metal echo as it bumped into itself. “So… Just tell me, where the fuck is he?!”

Panic took hold of him. He knew Matthew was someone else's puppet and was being used to get information. “Are you deaf? I told you I won't.” He leaned his head against the wall and remembered how many times he listened to the conversations the inmates had. "Whoever is doing this, Hannibal will find you and cook you to perfection. Good luck, dead meat.”

Chilton was interrupted by the neighboring cell opening. His heart accelerated dramatically, and he could feel it climbing up to his throat, preventing him from breathing. In an instant the place was silent. Nothing happened. Frederick looked around waiting for the inevitable to happen. Several seconds passed, which felt like hours to him yet everything remained in the deepest of the silences. He clenched his fists and walked to the huge plastic panel. Nothing. He saw nothing. He had no choice but to approach the panel, placed both hands and brought his face as close as possible. He could feel his sweaty palms sticking to the panel. Besides seeing his heavy breath fogging the plastic. His legs were getting numb. And a bitter taste filled his mouth. Frederick was so scared that he pitied himself.

“DOCTOR!”

Chilton's heart almost stopped, and his body ended up on the floor after that unexpected scream.

“D-Don’t… Please…“ he stuttered with dread.

Matthew opened Chilton's cell and came in with that ghastly smile that characterized him. He squatted and looked straight into his eyes. “You could have lived, but you refused to cooperate. Now, if you want to suffer, be quiet. If you want it to be quick, tell me where you took my Mr. Graham.” The veins in his face seemed to burst from the rage that was seizing him.

"You think Will belongs to you, and Hannibal thinks the same. I wish I could live longer to see how this ends,” he smiled bitterly.

"Mr. Graham is mine. He will be by my side. That's how it ends.” He pulled out a pocketknife and ran it over Chilton's face.

“Maybe I should return every favor to Hannibal.”

That same afternoon, Frederick Chilton's death was reported to Crawford. His throat had been cut from ear to ear. Yet it seemed that he had died in peace, for his face seemed serene. However, none of that murder made sense. It was obvious that the act had been orchestrated by someone in power. When the forensic team, led by Zeller, was about to do their job, a familiar voice was raised behind them.

"Stop what you're doing," Purnell arrived accompanied by several officers.

"Is something wrong?" Jack asked. Although it was obvious why she was there.

"This... eventuality, it's outside your jurisdiction, Jack." The woman proceeded to give orders to the people escorting her.

"Tell me why."

"Because that's how I decided it."

Unable to do otherwise, Jack retired with his team. He knew that woman was trying to cover up for someone. It was obvious that she had plotted this murder, which is why she didn't want anyone to interfere. 

As soon as he set foot outside the facility, his cell phone rang. It was Freddie Lounds. She had found out what had happened and asked Jack to meet her. She had no choice but to give his privileged information to Crawford. With the death of Frederick Chilton, it was evident that her turn would come if she didn't do something to help in the investigation. Despite the pain of turning in her work, which had taken more than five years to gather, she knew it was her best option for survival.

“So what you wanted?” Crawford walked into the woman's room. It was past midnight and he didn't want to spend much time there.

Without delay, the woman was ready to say everything she knew. “Donahue Sutton was the one who helped Hannibal meet the people of high society.”

“Demian’s father? How that happened?” He was so confused that he couldn't help but think that everything was her invention for the sake of profit.

“They met in St. Hopkins. Sutton was amazed by Hannibal’s abilities in medicine. When his son David kill himself, he became very fond of Hannibal. That’s why he helped him a great deal.”

Although he refused to believe her, from her nervous expression, it seemed that the woman was telling him the truth. In addition to the fact that she needed his help, because she was also on Hannibal's list of enemies, and if she wanted to survive she had to help capture him.

“How he helped him?” The tension was slowly building up. Something was being unveiled before his eyes, something he could not believe.

"Donahue discovered Hannibal's murders and covered everything. He also supported him in the psychiatrist transition so he could help him with his wife." She frowned, could sense Crawford's distrust. She continued, for she knew she was telling the truth.

"I thought she died when Demian was a kid." 

“No, she was confined by Donahue because she had a daughter with another man, his chauffeur.”

"And what did Hannibal have to do with all this?" It seemed like her story was falling apart. Again nothing made sense, Jack grinned as he saw her confused.

"He helped erase Mallory Sutton’s memory. Then he placed her daughter in an adoptive family. Donahue, in return, gave him most of his fortune. He also received support from different people in high society, which is why Hannibal is so rich. He deceived everyone." She coughed slightly and rubbed her neck. The pain was now part of her routine.

"And the girl?" He fixed his gaze on her, trying to intimidate her.

“Just a moment.” She took a glass from the bedside table and drank. “Hannibal is a genius who traced a magnificent plan. He gave money to her new family, so they would inform him everything about her. Practically he raised her just for his own sake, and for years we've witnessed his master plan.”

“Who is the girl?” All that gave him a bad feeling. He thought of a name but hoped it wouldn't be.

"It's Miriam Lass. She's Demian's half-sister." Freddie pulled out a file from under her pillow and handed it to Jack. “You can corroborate all the information with this.”

He took the file with hesitation. He couldn't or wanted to believe everything he had heard.

The rays of sunshine slipped through the window, waking Will. He rubbed his eyes and, unavoidably, thought of what had happened the night before. Even though he couldn't remember most of it. Taking advantage of Hannibal's absence, he went to the bathroom as fast as he could. The sound of his crutches made it clear how fast he was moving. He closed the door and, in the sink, washed his pants. He felt like a teenager trying to hide a wet dream from his mother.

When he left the room he went to the kitchen for a glass of water. His throat was still scratchy. But on the way, he stood up in front of the paint. Their paint. 

Some details were missing. Despite that, the paint was stunning. Such vibrant colors seemed to come to life. All that was there was so alive that Will was overwhelmed by the majesty. The bird flying over all that rottenness kept a mystifying white tone which shone even brighter among all the death below. Its legs had a black discoloration that went up to its body. It seemed that the wickedness of his world was reaching it no matter how high it flew.

"It's you, Will. That bird is how I see you," Hannibal's voice echoed in the back of his head.

Unsure of what to say, Will stared at the imposing paint on the wall. He still couldn't believe why he felt empathy for that little bird that lived in that rotten world. A strange pain ran through his chest. It climbed up his throat creating a lump. Without realizing it, tears fell down his face.

I'm not like that," he turned his face to Hannibal.

The man was surprised by Will's expression. He couldn't understand how someone who might seem unfriendly to the world would be able to demonstrate so much with a single glance. His big eyes emanated an emerald fire that appeared to be capable of burning hell itself. His tears gave him such an overwhelming crystalline touch that Hannibal could not take his eyes off him.

"This is you," he said pointing to the beautiful white bird. "That's why you must decide which way this painting should take." He grabbed a brush and placed it in Will's trembling hand.

When he was alone, he prepared to finish the painting.

Overflowing with determination, he opened several jars of paint. His brushstrokes were powerful and precise. For the first time in a long time, he was sure of what he was doing. For the first time, he was deciding for himself. For the first time, his needs were above all. He felt alive. The beating of his heart was only for him. The caverns of his mind opened to his determination. At last, everything made sense.

That same day in the afternoon, Matthew arrived at the same roadside diner where Hannibal was the last time. He seemed to have gotten the information he wanted. It was as if fate had a sinister plan for everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
I'm sorry for the delay in the update, but I had some complicated days and the other fic also needed to progress somewhat.  
Back to the subject, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was very happy to write this fic again. I didn't know I missed it so much until I started to type >w<


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